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FLUSH TIMES 



OF 



ALABAMA AND MISSISSIPPI 



A S^mtB 0f S>ktUiitB. 



JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 



AMERICUS BOOK CO. 
AMERICUS, GA. 






Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 185S, by 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 

In the Clerk'3 Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 

Southern District of New- York. 



TO 
'^THE OLD FOLKS AT HOME 

MY FRIENDS 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHENANDOAH, 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



PREFACE. 



Some of these papers were piiblisliecl in the Southern 
Literary Messenger^ and having met with a favor- 
able reception from the Public, and a portion of the 
Press, the author has yielded to the solicitations of 
his own vanity, and other flattering friends, and col- 
lected them in a volume with other pieces of the same 
general character. The scheme of the articles he 
believes to be original in design and execution, — at 
least, no other work with which he is acquainted, has 
been published in the United States designed to illus- 
trate the periods, the characters, and the phases of the 
society, some notion of which is attempted to be given 
in this volume. The author, under the tremor of a 



vi prefIce. 

first publication, felt strongly inclined to offer a 
sneaking apology for the many errors and imperfec- 
tions of his work; such as the fact that the articles 
were written in haste, under the pressure of profes- 
sional engagements and amidst constant interruptions; 
and that he has no time or opportunity for correction 
and revision. But he anticipated the too ready an- 
swer to such a plea ; " If you had no time to write 
well, why did you write at all? Who constrained you? 
If you were not in dress to see company, why come 
unbidden into the presence of the public? Why not, 
at least, wait until you were fit to be presented?" 
He confesses that he sees no way to answer these 
tough questions, unless the apology of Falstaff for 
rushing into the presence of Kmg Hal, "before he 
had time to have made new liveries" — "stained with 
travel and sweating with desire to see him," — be a 
good one — as "inferring the zeal he had to see him " 
— " the earnestness of affection " — " the devotion :" 
but in poor Jack's case, '' not to deliberate^ not to re- 
member, not to have 'patience to shift him," was not 
a very effectual excuse for his coming out of sorts; 
and we are afraid, that that other Sovereign, the 
Public, is not more facile of approach, or more credu- 



PREFACE. Vll 

Ions of excuses; for, unfortunately, the ardor of an 
author's greeting is something beyond the heat of the 
Public's reception of him, or, as Pat expresses it, the 
reciprocity of feeling is all on one side. 

Without apology, therefore, he gives these leaves 
to the winds, — with that feeling of comfort and com- 
posure which comes of the knowledge that, let the 
venture go as it may, he loses little who puts but little 
at hazard. 

The author begs to return to the accomplished 
Editor of the Messenger, Jno. R. Thompson, Esq., his 
acknowledgments, for revising and correcting this 
work as it passed through the press. 

Livingston, Ala., 1853. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Ovid Bolus, Esq. ....... 1 

Attorney at Law, and Solicitor in Chancery. 

My First Appearance at the Bar . . . .20 

Higginbotham vs. Swink, Slander. 

The Bench and the Bar . . . . . .47 

Introduction— Jolly Times— Chaos of Jurisprudence—The Era of 
Quashing — Jim T., a Character— How to get rid of Counts in a 
Declaration— A Nonsuit— The Commonwealth vs. Foreman — 
Yankee Schoolmaster in a Fix — The Argument and Verdict, &c. 

How the Times Served the Virginians. . . .72 

Virginians in a New Country— The Rise, Decline, and Fall of the 
Rag Empire. 

Assault and Battery . . . . . .109 

Burrell or Burwell Shines— His Testimony in Full— Verdict of the 
Jury. 

Simon Suggs, Jr., Esq.; A Legal Biography . . .114 

Correspondence. 

Squire A. and the Fritters . . . . .142 

Jonathan and the Constable . . . . .147 

Sharp Financiering . . . . . "151 

Cave Burton, Esq., of Kentucky . . , .153 

His Traits and Characteristics— The Earthquake Story— A Breach of 
Promise — A Fining Judge— Scene in a Court. House — Miss Jule 
Pritcher — Catastrophe, &c., &c. 



CONTENTS 



Justification after Verdict ..... 

An Affair of Honor ...... 

Hon, S. S. Prentiss .... ... 

A Sketch of his Character, and Review of his Public Career. 

The Bar of the South-West ..... 
Jurisprudence in a New Country— The Young Attorney and the 
Celebrated Lawyer— Litigation attending Frontier Life— The 
Poetry of Swindling, &c. &c. 

Hon. Francis Strother .... 

'Portrait of a Gentleman'— The Genius of Labor— Rare Union of the 



Suavitcr and the Fortiter—T\ie Hon. Francis 
His Services to the State, &c. &c. 



Mr. Tee and Mr. Gee 

Scan. Mag. . 

An Equitable Set-Off 

A Cool Rejoinder . 

A Hung Court 

Smith vs. Johnson. 

Samuel Hele, Esq . 

A Yankee Schoolmistress and an Alabama Lawyer. 

John Stout, Esq., and Mark Sullivan 

Mr. Onslow .... 

Jo. Heyfron. 

Old Uncle John Olive 

EXAMINING A Candidate for License 



s Munificence- 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 

ATTORNEY AT LAW AND SOLICITOR IN CHANCERY. 



* ** * « * * * 

And what history of that halcyon period, ranging from the 
year of Grace, 1835, to 1837; that golden era, when shin- 
plasters were the sole currency; when bank-bills were "as 
thick as Autumn leaves in Vallambrosa," and credit was a 
franchise, — what history of those times would be complete, 
that left out the name of Ovid Bolus? As well write the 
biography of Prince Hal, and forbear all mention of FalstafC. 
In law phrase, the the thing would be a ** deed without a 
name," and void; a most unpardonable casus omissus. 

I cannot trace, for reasons the sequel suggests, the early 
history, much less the birth-place, pedigree, and juvenile 
associations of this worthy. Whence he or his forbears got 
his name or how, I don't know: but for the fact that it is to 
be inferred he got it in infancy, I should have thought he 



2 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

borrowed it; he borrowed every thing else he ever had 
such things as he got under the credit system only ex| 
cepted: in deference, however, to the axiom, that there is! 
some exception to all general rules, I am willing to believei 
that he got this much honestly, by hona fide gift or inherit- 
ance, and without false pretence. 

I have had a hard time of it in endeavoring to assign tC( 
Bolus his leading vice: I have given up the task in despair ;| 
but I have essayed to designate that one which gave him,< 
in the end, most celebrity. I am aware that it is invidiousi 
to make comparisons, and to give pre-eminence to one* 
over other rival qualities and gifts, where all have highl 
claims to distinction: but, then, the stern justice of criti-ij 
cism, in this case, requires a discrimination, which, to bei, 
intelligible and definite, must be relative and comparative.^ 
I, therefore, take the responsibility of saying, after duet 
reflection, that in my opinion. Bolus's reputation stood 
higher for lying than for any thing else: and in thus assign4i 
ing pre-eminence to this poetic property, I do it withouti 
any desire to derogate from other brilliant characteristics: 
belonging to the same general category, which have drawn 
the wondering notice of the world. 

Some men are liars from interest; not because they have 
no regard for truth, but because they have less regard for iti 
than for gain: some are liars from vanity, because they would! 
rather be well thought of by others, than have reason fori 
thinking well of themselves: some are liars from a sort of I 
necessity, which overbears, by the weight of temptation, the 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 3 

3nse of virtue: some are enticed away by the allure- 
lents of pleasure, or seduced by evil example and education, 
olus was none of these: he belonged to a higher department 
: the fine arts, and to a higher class of professors of this 
•rt of Belles-Lettres. Bolus was a natural liar, just as 
)me horses are natural pacers, and some dogs natural set- 
srs. What he did in that walk, was from the irresistible 
I'omptings of instinct, and a disinterested love of art. His 
Bnius and his performances were free from the vulgar alloy 

interest or temptation. Accordingly, he did not labor a 
e: he lied with a relish: he lied with a coming appetite, 
owing with what it fed on: he lied from the delight of in- 
ntion and the charm of fictitious narrative. It is true he 
Dpilied his art to the practical purposes of life; but in so far 
d he glory the more in it; just as an ingenious machinist 
joices that his invention, while it has honored science, has 
so supplied a common want. 

Bolus's genius for lying was encyclopediacal: it was what 
3rman criticism calls many-sided. It embraced all subjects 
ithout distinction or partiality. It was equally good upon 
1, " from grave to gay, from 'lively to severe." 

Bolus's lying came from his greatness of soul and his 
mprehensiveness of mind. The truth was too small for 
m. Fact was too dry and common-place for the fervor of 
s genius. Besides, great as was his memory — for he even 
membered the outlines of his chief lies — his invention was 
ill larger. ^ He had a great contempt for history and histo- 
ins. He thought them tame and timid cobblers; mere 



4 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

tinkers on other people's wares, — simple parrots and magpies 
of other men's sayings or doings; borrowers of and acknowl 
edged debtors for others' chattels, got without skill; they hacj 
no separate estate in their ideas: they were bailees of goodjl 
which they did not pretend to hold by adverse title; burierr 
of talents in napkins making no usury; barren and unprofita;| 
ble non-producers in the intellectual vineyard — nati consuli^ 
mere Bruges. 

He adopted a fact occasionally to start with, but, like { 
SheflEield razor and the crude ore, the workmanship, polisl 
and value were all his own: a Thibet shawl could as well b 
credited to the insensate goat that grew the wool, as the aui 
thor of a fact Bolus honored with his artistical skill, coul(i 
claim to be the inventor of the story. 

His experiments upon credulity, like charity, began aj 
home. He had long torn down the partition wall betwee: 
his imagination and his memory. He had long ceased t 
distinguish between the impressions made upon his mind bij 
what came from it, and what came to it: all ideas were fact 
to him. , 

Bolus's life was not a common man's life. His worl 
was not the hard, work-day world the groundlings live ini 
he moved in a sphere of poetry: he lived amidst het ide 
and romantic. Not that he was not practical enough, whe 
he chose to be: by no means. He bought goods and cha; 
tels, lands and tenements, like other men; but he got thei 
under a state of poetic illusion, and paid for them in an in 
aginary way. Even the titles he gave were not of the earth 



II 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 5 

sort — they were sometimes clouded. He gave notes, too, — 
how well I know it! — like other men; he paid them like 
himself. 

How well he asserted the Spiritual over the Material! 
How he delighted to turn an abstract idea into concrete cash 
—to make a few blots of ink, representing a little thought, 
turn out a labor-saving machine, and bring into his pocket 
money which many days of hard exhausting labor would not 
procure! What pious joy it gave him to see the days of 
the good Samaritan return, and the hard hand of avarice re- 
lax its grasp on land and negroes, pork and clothes, beneath 
the soft speeches and kind promises of future rewards — 
blending in the act the three cardinal virtues, Faith, Hope, 
and Charity; while, in the result, the chief of these three 
was Charity! 

There was something sublime in the idea — this elevat- 
ing the spirit of man to its true and primeval dominion 
over things of sense and grosser matter. 

It is true, that in these practical romances. Bolus was 
charged with a defective taste in repeating himself. The 
justice of the charge must be, at least, partially acknowledg- 
ed: this I know from a client, to whom Ovid sold a tract of 
land after having sold it twice before: I cannot say, though, 
' that his forgetting to mention this circumstance made any 
difference, for Bolus originally had no title. 

There was nothing narrow, sectarian, or sectional, in 
Bolus's lying. It was on the conT:rary broad and catholic. 
It had no respect to times or i)laces. It was as wide, illimit- 



5 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

able, as elastic and variable as the air he spent in giving 
it expression. It was a generous, gentlemanly, whole- 
souled faculty. It was often employed on occasions of 
thrift, but no more; and no more zealously on these I 
than on others of no profit to himself. He was an 
Egotist, but a magnificent one; he was not a liar be- 
cause an egotist, but an egotist because a liar. He usually 
made himself the hero of the romantic exploits and adven- 
tures he narrated; but this was not so much to exalt him- 
self, as because it was more convenient to his art. He hadl 
nothing malignant or invidious in his nature. If he exalted! 
himself, it was seldom or never to the disparagement of oth- 
ers, unless, indeed, those others were merely imaginary per--| 
sons, or too far off to be hurt. He would as soon lie for; 
you as for himself. It was all the same, so there was some-- 
thing doing in his line of business, except in those cases ini 
which his necessities required to be fed at your expense. 

He did not confine himself to mere lingual lying: one3 
tongue was not enough for all the business he had on hand., 
He acted lies as well. Indeed, sometimes his very silence? 
was a lie. He made nonentity fib for him, and performed! 
wondrous feats by a " masterly inactivity." 

The personnel of this distinguished Votary of the Muse 
was happily fitted to his art. He was strikingly handsome. 
There was something in his air and bearing almost princely, 
certainly quite distinguished. His manners were winning, 
his address frank, cordial and flowing. He was built after ij 
the model and structure of Bolingbroke in his youth, Ameri- 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 7 

canized and Hoosierized a little by a "raising in," and an 
adaptation to, the Backwoods. He was fluent but choice of 
diction, a little sonorous in the structure of his sentences to 
give effect to a voice like an organ. His countenance was 
open and engaging, usually sedate of expression, but capable 
of any modifications at the shortest notice. Add to this hia 
intelligence, shrewdness, tact, humor, and that he was a ready 
debater and dlegant declaimer, and had the gift of bringing 
out, to the fullest extent, his resources, and you may see that 
Ovid, in a new country, was a man apt to make no mean im- 
pression. He drew the loose population aiound him, as the 
magnet draws iron filings. He was the man for the " boys," 
— then a numerous and influential class. His generous pro- 
fusion and free-handed manner impressed them as the bounty 
of Caesar the loafing commonalty of Rome: Bolus was no 
niggard. He never higgled or chaffered about small things. 
He was as free with his own money — if he ever had any of 
his own — as with yours. If he never paid borrowed money, 
he never asked payment of others. If you wished him to lend 
you any, he would give you a handful without counting it: 
if you handed him any, you were losing time in counting it, 
for you never saw any thing of it again. Shallow's funded 
debt on Falstaff were as safe an investment: this would have 
been an equal commerce, but, unfortunately for Bolus's friends, 
the proportion between his disbursements and receipts was 
something scant. Such a spendthrift never made a track 
even in the flush times of 1836. It took as much to support 
him as a first class steamboat. His bills at the groceries 



8 SKETCHES OF THE FiUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

were as long as John Q. Adams' Abolition petition, or, if 
pasted together, would have matched the great Chartist me- 
morial. He would as soon treat a regiment or charter the 
grocery for the day, as any other way; and after the crowd 
had heartily drank — some of them " laying their souls in 
soak," — if he did not have the money convenient — as when 
did he? — he would fumble in his pocket, mutter something 
about nothing less than a $100 bill, and direct the score, with 
a ilordly familiarity, to be charged to his account. 

Ovid had early possessed the faculty of ubiquity. He 
had been born in more places than Homer. In an hour's dis- 
course he would, with more than the speed of Ariel, travel 
at every point of the compass, from Portland to San Antonio, 
some famous adventure always occurring just as he " rounded 
to," or while stationary, though he did not remain longer 
than to see it. He was present at every important debate 
in the Senate at Washington, and had heard every popular 
speaker on the hustings, at the bar and in the pulpit, in the 
United States. He had been concerned in many important 
causes with Grymes and against Mazereau in New Orleans, 
and had borne no small share in the fierce forensic battles, 
which, with singular luck, he and Grymes always won in the 
courts of the Crescent City, And such frolics as they had 
when they laid aside their heavy armor, after the heat and 
burden of the day! Such gambling! A negro ante and 
twenty on the call, was moderate playing. What lots of 
" Ethiopian captives " and other plunder he raked down 
vexed Arithmetic to count and credulity to believe; and, had 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 9 

it not been for Bolus's generosity in giving " the boys " a 
chance to win back hy doubling off on the high hand, there 
is no knowing what changes of owners would not have oc- 
curred in the Rapides or on the German Coast. 

The Florida war and the Texas Revolution, had each fur- 
nished a brilliant theatre for Ovid's chivalrous emprise. Jack 
Hays and he were great chums. Jack and he had many a 
hearty laugh over the old trick of Ovid, in lassoing a Ca- 
manche Chief, while galloping a stolen horse bare-backed, up 
the San Saba hills. But he had the rig on Jack again, when 
he made him charge on a brood of about twenty Camanches, 
who had got into a mot of timber in the prairies, and were 
shooting their arrows from the covert, Ovid, with a six-bar- 
relled rifle, taking them on the wing as Jack rode in and 
flushed them! 

It was an affecting story and feelingly told, that of his 
and Jim Bowie's rescuing an American girl from the Apaches, 
and returning her to her parents in St. Louis: and it would 
have been still more tender, had it not been for the unfortu- 
nate necessity Bolus was under of shooting a brace of gay 
lieutenants on the border, one frosty morning, before break- 
fast, back of the fort, for taking unbecoming liberties with the 
fair damosel, the spoil of his bow and spear. 

But the girls Ovid courted, and the miraculous adven- 
tures he had met with in love beggared by the comparison, 
all the fortune of war had done for him. Old Nugent's 
daughter, Sallie, was his narrowest escape. Sallie was accom- 
plished to the romantic extent of two ocean steamers, and 



10 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

four blocks of buildings in Boston, separated only from im- 
mediate "perception and pernancy," by the contingency of 
old Nugent's recovering from a confirmed dropsy, for which 
he had been twice ineffectually tapped. The day was set — 
the presents made — superb of course — the guests invited: 
the old Sea Captain insisted on Bolus's setting his negroes 
free, and taking five thousand dollars apiece for the loss. 
Bolus's love for the " peculiar institution " wouldn't stand it. 
Rather than submit to such degradation, Ovid broke off the 
match, and ileft Sallie broken-hearted; a disease from which 
she did not recover until about six months afterwards, when 
she ran off with the mate of her father's ship, the Sea Serpent, 
in the Rio trade. 

Gossip and personal anecdote were the especial subjects 
of Ovid's elocution. He was intimate with all the notabili- 
ties of the political circles. He was a privileged visitor of 
the political green-room. He was admitted back into the 
laboratory where the political thunder was manufactured, and 
into the office where the magnetic wires were worked. He 
knew the origin of every party question and movement, and 
had a finger in every pie the party cooks of Tammany baked 
for the body politic. 

One thing in Ovid I can never forgive. This was his 
coming it over poor Ben. I don't object to it on the score 
of the swindle. That was to have been expected. But swin- 
dling Ben was degrading the dignity of the art. True, it il- 
lustrated the universality of his science, but it lowered it to 
a beggarly process of mean deception. There was no skill 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. H 

in it. It was little better than crude larceny. A child could 
have done it; it had as well been done to a child. It was 
like catching a cow with a lariat, or setting a steel trap for a 
pet pig. True, Bolus had nearly practised out of custom. 
He had worn his art threadbare. Men, who could afford to 
be cheated, had all been worked up or been scared away. Be- 
sides, Frost couldn't be put off. He talked of money in a 
most ominous connection with blood. The thing could be 
settled by a bill of exchange. Ben's name was unfortunately 
good — the amount some $1,600. Ben had a fine tract of 

land in S r. He has not got it now. Bolus only gave 

Ben one wrench — that was enough. Ben never breathed 
easy afterwards. Alll the V's and X's of ten years' hard 
practice, went in that penful of ink. Fie! Bolus, Monroe 
Edwards wouldn't have done that. He would sooner have 
sunk down to the level of some honest calling for a living 
than have put his profession to so mean a shift. I can con- 
ceive of but one extenuation; Bolus was on the lift for Tex- 
as, and the desire was natural to qualify himself for citizen- 
ship. 

The genius of Bolus, strong in its unassisted strength, 
yet glleamed out more brilliantly under the genial influence 
of " the rosy." With boon companions and " reaming suats," 
it was worth while to hear him of a winter evening. He 
could " gild the palpable and the familiar, with golden exha- 
lations of the dawn." The most common-place objects be- 
came dignified. There was a history to the commonest arti- 
cles about him: that book was given him by Mr. Van Buren 



X2 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

— the walking stick was a present from Gen Jackson: the 
thrice-watered Monongahela, just drawn from the grocery- 
hard by, was the last of a distillation of 1825, smuggled in 
from Ireland, and presented to him by a friend in New Or- 
leans, on easy terms with the collector; the cigars, not too 
fragrant, were of a box sent him by a schoolmate from Cuba, 
in 1834 — defore he visited the Island, And talking of Cuba 
— he had met with an adventure there, the impression of 
which never could be effaced from his mind. He had gone, 
at the instance of Don Carlos y Cubanos, (an intimate class- 
mate in a, Kentucky Catholic College,) whose life he had 
saved from a mob in Louisville, at the imminent risk of his 
own. The Don had a sister of blooming sixteen, the least 
of whose charms was two or three coffee plantations, some 
hundreds of slaves, and a suitable garnish of doubloons, ac- 
cumulated during her minority, in the hands of her uncle and 
guardian, the Captain Generail. All went well with the young 
lovers — for such, of course, they were — until Bolus, with his 
usual frank indiscretion, in a conversation with the Priest 
avowed himself a Protestant. Then came trouble. Every 
effort was made to convert him; but Bolus's faith resisted 
the eloquent tongue of the Priest, and the more eloquent eyes 
of Donna Isabella. The brother pleaded the old friendship 
— urged a seeming and formal conformity — the Captain Gene- 
ral argued the case like a politician — the Seiiorita like a warm 
and devoted woman. All would not do. The Captain Gene- 
ral forbade his longer sojourn on the Island. Bolus took 
leave of the fair Seiiorita: the parting interview held in the 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 13 

orange bower, was affecting: Donna Isabella, with dishevelled 
hair, threw herself at his feet; the tears streamed from her 
eyes: in liquid tones, broken by grief, she implored him to 
relent, — reminded him of her love, of her trust in him, and 
of the consequences — now not much longer to be concealed — 
of that love and trust; ("though I protest," Bolus would 
say, "I don't know what she meant exactly by that.'") "Gen- 
tlemen," Bolus continued, " I confess to the weakness — I wa- 
vered — but then my eyes happened to fall on the breast-pin 
with a lock of my mother's hair — I recovered my courage: 
I shook her gently from me. I felt my last hdld on earth 
was loosened — my last hope of peace destroyed. Since that 
hour, my life has been a burden. Yes, gentlemen, you see 
before you a broken man — a martyr to his Religion. But, 
away with these melancholy thoughts: boys, pass around the 
jorum." And wiping his eyes, he drowned the wasting sor- 
row in a long draught of the poteen; and, being much re- 
freshed, was able to carry the burden on a little further, — 
videlicet, to the next lie. 

It must not be supposed that Bolus was destitute of the 
tame virtue of prudence — or that this was confined to the 
avoidance of the improvident habit of squandering his 
money in paying old debts. He took reasonably good care 
of his person. He avoided all unnecessary exposures, 
chiefly from a patriotic desire, probably, of continuing his 
good offices to his country. His recklessness was, for the 
most part, lingual. To hear him talk, one might suppose 
he held his carcass merely for a target to try guns and 



14 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

knives upon; or that the business of his life was to draw 
men up to ten paces or less, for sheer improvement in marks- 
manship. Such exploits as he had gone through with, 
dwarfed the heroes of romance to very pigmy and sneaking 
proportions. Pistol at the Bridge when he bluffed at hon- 
est Fluelilen, might have envied the swash-buckler airs, Ovid 
would sometimes put on. But 1 never could exactly iden- 
tify the place he had laid out for his burying-ground. In- 
deed, I had occasion to know that he declined to under- 
stand several not very ambiguous hints, upon which he 
might, with as good a grace as Othello, have spoken, not to 
mention one or two pressing invitations which his modesty 
led him to refuse. I do not know that the base sense of 
fear had any thing to do with these declinations: possibly 
he might have thought he had done his share of fighting, 
and did not wish to monopolize: or his principles forbade it 
— I mean those which opposed his paying a debt: knowing 
he could not cheat that inexorable creditor. Death, of his 
claim, he did the next thing to it; which was to delay and 
shirk payment as long as possible. 

It remains to add a word of criticism on this great Ly- 
ric artist. 

In lying, Bolus was not only a successful, but he was a 
very able practitioner. Like every other eminent artist, he 
brought all his faculties to bear upon his art. Though 
quick of perception and prompt of invention, he did not 
trust himself to the inspirations of his genius for improvis- 
ing a lie, when he could well premeditate one. He deilibe- 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 15 

rately built up the substantial masonry, relying upon the 
occasion and its accessories, chiefly for embellishment and 
collateral supports: as Burke excogitated the mare solid 
parts of his great speeches, and left unprepared only the il- 
lustrations and fancy-work. 

Bolus's manner was, like every truly great man's, his 
own. It was excellent. He did not come blushing up to a 
lie, as some otherwise very passable liars do, as if he were 
making a mean compromise between his guilty passion or 
morbid vanity, and a struggling conscience. Bolus had long 
since settled all disputes with Ms conscience. He and it 
were on very good terms — at least, if there was no affection 
between the couple, there was no fuss in the family; or, if 
there were any scenes or angry passages, they were reserved 
for strict privacy and never got out. My own opinion is, 
that he was as destitute of the article as an ostrich. Thus 
he came to his work bravely, cheerfully and composedly. 
The delights of composition, invention and narration, did 
not fluster his style or agitate his delivery. He knew how, 
in the tumult of passion, to assume the " temperance to give 
it smoothness." A lie never ran away with him, as it is apt 
to do with young performers: he could always manage and 
guide it; and to have seen him fairly mounted, would have 
given you some idea of the polished elegance of D'Orsay, 
and the superb manage of Murat. There is a tone and man- 
ner of narration different from those used in delivering ideas 
just conceived; just as there is a difference between the 
sound of the voice in reading and in speaking. Bolus knew 



1Q SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

this, and practised on it. When he was narrating, he put 
the facts in order, and seemed to speak them out of his 
memory; but not formally, or as if by rote. He would stop 
himself to correct a date; recollect he was wrong — he was 
that year at the White Sulphur oir Saratoga, &c.: having 
got the. date right, the names of persons present would be 
incorrect, &c.: and these he corrected in turn. A stranger 
hearing him, would have feared the marring of a good story 
by too fastidious a conscientiousness in the nairrator. 

His zeal in pursuit of a lie under difla.culties, was re- 
markable. The society around him — if such it could be 
called — was hardly fitted, without some previous prepara- 
tion, for an immediate introduction to Almack's or the clas- 
sic precincts of Gore House. The manners of the natives 
were rather plain than ornate, and candor rather than polish, 
predominated in their conversation. Bolus had need of 
some forbearance to withstand the interruptions and cross- 
examinations, with which his revelations were sometimes re- 
ceived. But he possessed this in a remarkable degree. I 
recollect, on one occasion, when he was giving an account of 
a providential escape he was signally favored with, (when 
boarded by a pirate off the Isle of Pines, and he pleaded ma- 
sonry, and gave a sign he had got out of the Disclosures of 
Morgan,) Tom Johnson interrupted him to say that he had 
heard that before, (which was more than Bolus had ever 
done.) B. immediately rejoined, that he had, he believed 
given him, Tom, a running sketch of the incident. " Ra- 
ther," said Tom, " I think, a lying sketch." Bolus scarcely 



OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 17 

smiled, as he replied, that Tom was a wag, and couldn't help 
turning the most serious things into jests; and went on with 
his usual brilliancy, to finish the narrative. Bolus did not 
overcrowd his canvas. His figures were never confused, 
and the subordinates and accessories did not withdraw at- 
tention from the main and substantive lie. He never squan- 
dered his lies profusely: thinking, with the poet, that 
" bounteous, not prodigal, is kind Nature's hand," he kept 
the golden mean between penuriousness and prodigality; 
never stingy of his lies, he was not wasteful of them, but 
was rather forehanded than pushed, or embarrassed, having, 
usually, fictitious stock to be freshly put on 'change, when 
he wished to " make a raise." In most of his fables, he in- 
culcated but a single leading idea; but contrived to make 
the several facts of the narrative fall in very gracefully with 
the principal scheme. 

The rock on which many promising young liars, who 
might otherwise have risen to merited distinction, have split, 
in vanity: this marplot vice betrays itself in the exultation 
manifested on the occasion of a decided hit, an exultation 
too inordinate for mere recital, and which betrays author- 
ship; and to betray authorship, in the present barbaric, 
moral and intellectual condition of the world is fatal. True, 
there seems to be some inconsistency here. Dickens and Bul- 
wer can do as much lying, for money too, as they choose, and 
no one blame them, any more than they would blame a law- 
yer regularly fee'd to do it; but let any man, gifted with the 
same genius, try his hand at it, not deliberately and in writ- 



13 SKETCHES OF THE F^USH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



ing, but merely orally, and ugly names are given him, and 
he is proscribed! Bolus heroically suppressed exultation 
over the victories his lies achieved. I •" 

Alas! for the beautiful things of Earth, its flowers, its | n' 
sunsets — its lovely girls — its lies — brief and fleeting are 
their date. Lying is a very delicate accomplishment. It 
must be tenderly cared for, and jealously guarded. It must 
not be overworked. Bolus forgot this salutary caution. 
The people found out his art. However dull the commons 
are as to other matters, they get sharp enough after a while, 
to whatever concerns their bread and butter. Bolus not 
having confined his art to political matters, sounded, at last, 
the depths, and explored the limits of popular credulity. 
The denizens of this degenerate age, had not the disinterest- 
edness of Prince Hal, who " cared not how many fed at his 
cost;" they got tired, at last, of promises to pay. The 
credit system, common before as pump-water, adhering, like 
the elective franchise to every voter, began to take the 
worldly wisdom of Falstaff's mercer, and ask security; and 
security liked something more substantial than plausible 
promises. In this forlorn condition of the country, return- 
ing to its savage state, and abandoning the refinements of a 
ripe Anglo-Saxon civilization for the sordid safety of Mex- 
ican or Chinese modes of traflic; deserting the sweet sim- 
plicity of its ancient trustingness and the poetic illlusions of 
Augustus Tomlinson, for the vulgar saws of poor Richard 
— Bolus, with a sigh like that breathed out by his great pro- 
totype after his apostrophe to London, gathered up, one 






OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 19 

bright moonlight night, his articles of value, shook the dust 
from his feet, and departed from a land unworthy of his 
longer sojourn. With that delicate consideration for the feel- 
ngs of his friends, which, dike the politeness of Charles II., 
never forsook him, he spared them the pain of a parting in- 
terview. He left no greetings of kindness; no messages of 
ove: nor did he ask assurances of their lively rememberance. 
[t was quite unnecessary. In every house he had left an 
Lutograph, in every ledger a souvenir. They will never for- 
get him. Their connection with him will be ever regarded 

IS 

" The greenest spot 

In memory's waste." 

Poor Ben, whom he had honored with the last marks of 
lis confidence, can scarcely speak of him to this day, with- 
)ut tears in his eyes. Fair away towards the setting sun he 
lied him, until, at last, with a hermit's disgust at the degra- 
lation of the world, like Ignatius turned monk, he pitched 
lis tabernacle amidst the smiling prairies that sleep in ver- 
lal beauty, in the shadow of the San Saba mountains. There 
et his mighty genius rest. It has earned repose. We leave 
rhemistocles to his voluntary exile. 



20 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 



HiGGINBOTHAM 

Slander. 

SWINK. 



Did you ever, reader, get a merciless barrister of the old 
school after you when you were on your first legs — in the 
callow tenderness of your virgin epidermis? I hope not. I 
wish I could say the same for myself; but I cannot: and 
with the faint hope of inspiring some small pity in the 
breasts of the seniors, I, now one of them myself, give in 
my live experience of what befell me at my first appear- 
ance on the forensic boards. 

I must premise by observing that, some twenty years 
ag'o — more or less — shortly after I obtained license to prac- 
tise law in the town of H — , State of Alabama, an un- 
fortunate client called at my office to retain my services in 
a celebrated suit for slander. The case stands on record, 
Stephen 0. Higgindotham vs. CaleJ) Swink. The afore- 
said Caleb, " greatly envying the happy state and condition 
of said Stephen," who, " until the grievances," &c., " never 
had been suspected of the crime of hog-stealing," &c., said, 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 21 

" in the hearing and presence of one Samuel Eads and other 
good and worthy citizens," of and concerning the plaintiff, 
" you " (the said Stephen meaning) " are a noted hog thief, 

and stole more hogs than all the wagons in M could 

haul off in a week on a turnpike road." The way I came to 
be employed was this: Higginbotham had retained Frank 
Glendye, a great brick in " damage cases," to bring the suit, 
and G. had prepared the papers, and got the case on the 
pleadings, ready for trial. But, while the case was getting 
ready, Frank was suddenly taken dangerously drunk, a dis- 
ease to which his constitution was subject. The case had been 
continued for several terms, and had been set for a particu- 
lar day of the term then going on, to be disposed of finally 
and positively when called. It was hoped that the lawyer 
would recover Ms health in time to prosecute the case; but 
he had continued the drunken fit with the suit. The morn- 
ing of the trial came on; and, on going to see his counsel, 
the client found him utterly prostrate; not a hope remained 
of his being able to get to the court-house. He was in col- 
lapse; a perfect cholera case. Passing down the street, al- 
most in despair, as my good or evil genius would have it, 
Higginbotham met Sam Hicks, a tailor, whom I had honored 
with my patronage (as his books showed) for many years; 
anl, as one good turn deserves another — a suit for a suit — 
he, on hearing the predicament H. was in, boldly suggested 
my name to supply the i^lace of the fallen Glendye; adding 
certain assurances and encomiums which did infinite credit 
to his friendship and his imagination. 



32 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

I gathered from my caluminated client, as well as I could, 
the facts of the case, and got a young friend to look me up 
the law of slander, to be ready when it should be put 
through, if it ever did get to the jury. 

The defendant was represented by old Caesar Kasm, a 
famous man in those days; and well might he be. This 

venerable limb of the law had long practised at the M 

bar, and been the terror of this generation. He was an old- 
time lawyer, the race of which is now fortunately extinct, or 
else the survivors "lag superfluous on the stage." He was 
about sixty-five years old at the time I am writing of; was 
of stout build, and something less than six feet in , height. 
He dressed in the old-fashioned fair-top boots and shorts; 
ruffled shirt, buff vest, and hair, a grizzly gray, roached up ' 
flat and stiff in front, and hanging down in a queue behind, l 
tied with an eel-skin and pomatumed. He was close shaven ' 
and powdered every morning; and, except a few scattering 
grains of snuff which fell occasionally between his nose and 
an old-fashioned gold snuff-box, a speck of dirt was never 
seen on or about his carefully preserved person. The tak- 
ing out of his deliciously perfumed handkerchief, scattered 
incense around like the shaking of a lilac bush in full flower. 
His face was round, and a sickly florid, interspersed with 
purple spots, overspread it, as if the natural dye of the old 
cogniac were maintaining an unequal contest with the decay 
of the vital energies. His bearing was decidedly soldierly, as 
it had a right to be, he having served as a captain some eight 
years before he took to the bar, as being the more pugna- 



i 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 23 

cious profession. His features, especially the mouth, turned 
down at the corners like a bull-dog's or a crescent, and a 
nose perked up with unutterable scorn and self-conceit, and 
eyes of a sensual, bluish gray, that seemed to be all light 
and no heat, were never pleasing to the opposing side. In 
his way, old Kasm was a very polite man. Whenever he 
chose, which was when it was his interest, to be polite, and 
when his blood was cool and he was not trying a law case, he 
would have made Chesterfield and Beau Brummel ashamed 
of themselves. He knew all the gymnastics of manners, 
and all forms and ceremonies of deportment; but there was 
no more soul or kindness in the manual he went through, 
than in, an iceberg. His politeness, however seemingly 
deferential, had a frost-bitten air, as if it had lain out over 
night and got the rheumatics before it came in; and really, 
one felt less at ease under his frozen smiles, than under any 
body eilse's frowns. 

He was the proudest man I ever saw: he would have 
made the Warwicks and the Nevilles, not to say the Plan- 
tagenets or Mr. Dombey, feel very limber and meek if in- 
troduced into their company; and selfish to that extent, that, 
if by giving up the nutmeg on his noon glass of toddy, he 
could have christianized the Burmese empire, millennium 
never would come for him. 

How far back he traced his lineage, I do not remember, 
but he had the best blood of both worlds in his veins; sired 
high up on the paternal side by some Prince or Duke, and 
dammed on the mother's by one or two Pocahontases. Of 



24 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

course, from, this, he was a Virginian, and the only one I 
ever knew that did not quote those Eleusinian mysteries, 
the Resolutions of 1798-99. He did not. He was a Fed- 
eralist, and denounced Jefferson as a low-flung demagogue, 
and Madison as his tool. He bragged largely on Virginia, jl 
though — he was not eccentric on this point — hut it was the 
Virginia of Washington, the Lees, Henry, &c., of which he 
boasted. The old dame may take it as a compliment that 
he bragged of her at all. 

The old Captain had a few negroes, which, with a de- 
clining practice, furnished him a support. His credit, in 
consequence of his not having paid any thing in the shape 
of a debt for something less than a quarter of a century, 
was rather limited. The property was covered up by a deed 
or other instrument, drawn up by Kasm himself, with such 
infernal artifice and diabolicall skill, that all the lawyers in 
the country were not able to decide, by a legal construction 
of its various clauses, whom the negroes belonged to, or 
whether they belonged to any body at all. 

He was an inveterate opponent of new laws, new books, 
new men. He would have revolutionized the government 
if he could, should a law have been passed, curing defects 
in Indictments. 

Yet he was a friend of strong government and strong 
laws: he might approve of a law making it death for a man 
to blow his nose in the street, but would be for rebelling if 
it allowed the indictment to dispense with stating in which 
hand he held it. 



li 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 25 

This eminent barrister was brought up at a time when 
zeal for a client was one of the chief virtues of a lawyer — 
the client standing in the place of truth, justice and decen- 
cy, and monopolizing the respect due to all. He, therefore, 
went into all causes with equal zeal and confidence, and took 
alH points that could be raised with the same earnestness, 
and belabored them with the same force. He personated 
the client just as a great actor identifies himself with the 
character he represents on the stage. 

The faculty he chiefly employed was a talent for vitupera- 
tion which would have gained him distinction on any theatre, 
from the village partisan press, down to the House of Rep- 
resentatives itsdlf. He had cultivated vituperation as a 
science, which was like putting guano on the Mississippi bot- 
toms, the natural fertility of his mind for satirical produc- 
tions was so great. He was as much fitted by temper as by 
talent for this sort of rhetoric, especially when kept from 
his dinner or toddy by the trial of a case — then an alligator 
whose digestion had been disturbed by the horns of a billy- 
goat taken for lunch, was no mean type of old Sar Kasm 
(as the wags of the bar called him, by nickname, formed 
by joining the last syllable of his christian, or rather, hea- 
then name, to his patronymic). After a case began to grow 
interesting, the old fellow would get fully stirred up. He 
grew as quarrelsome as a little bull terrrier. He snapped at 
witnesses, kept up a constant snarl at the counsel, and 
growled, at intervals, at the judge, whom, whoever he was, 
he considered as ex officio, his natural enemy, and so regard- 



26 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

ed every thing got from him as so much wrung from an un- 
willing witness. 

But his great forte was in cross-examining a witness. His 
countenance was the very expression of sneering incredulity. 
Such a look of cold, unsympathizing, scornful penetration 
as gleamed from his eyes of ice and face of brass, is not 
often seen on the human face divine. Scarcely any eye 
could meet unshrinkingly that basilisk gaze: it needed no 
translation: the language was plain: "Now you are swear- 
ing to a lie, and I'll catch you in it in a minute;" and then 
the look of surprise which greeted each new fact stated, as 
if to say, " I expected some lying, but really this exceeds 
all my expectations." The mock politeness with which he 
would address a witness, was any thing but encouraging; and 
the officious kindness with which he volunteered to remind 
him of a real or fictitious embarrassment, by asking him to 
take his time and not to suffer himself to be confused, as 
far as possible from being a relief; while the air of triumph 
that lit up his face the while, was too provoking for a saint 
to endure. 

Many a witness broke down under his examination, that 
would have stood the fire of a masked battery unmoved, and 
many another, voluble and animated enough in the opening 
narrative, ''slunk his pitch mightily," when old Kasm put 
him through on the cross-examination. 

His last look at them as they left the box, was an adver- 
tisement to come back, "and they would hear something to 
their advantage;" and if they came, they heard it, if hu- 
mility is worth buying at such a price. 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 27 

How it was, that in such a fighting country, old Kasm 
continued at this dangerous business, can only be under- 
stood, by those who know the entire readiness — nay, eager- 
ness of the old gentleman, to do reason to all serious in- 
quirers; — and one or two results which happened some years 
before the time I am writing of, to say nothing of some tra- 
ditions in the army, convinced the public, that his practice 
was as sharp at the small sword as at the cut and thrust of 
professional digladiation. 

Indeed, it was such an evident satisfaction to the old fellow 
to meet these emergencies, which to him were merely liveily 
episodes breaking the monotony of the profession, that his 
enemies, out of spite, resolutely refused to gratify him, or 
answer the sneering challenge stereotyped on his counte- 
nance. " Now if you can do any better, suppose you help 
yourself?" So, by common consent, he was elected free 
libeller of the bar. But it was very dangerous to repeat 
after him. 

When he argued a case, you would suppose he had 
bursted his gall-bag — such, not vials but demijohns, of vitu- 
peration as he poured out with a fluency only interrupted 
by a pause to gather, like a tree-frog, the venom sweltering 
under his tongue into a concentrated essence. He could 
look more sarcasm than any body else could speak; and 
in his scornful gaze, virtue herself looked like something 
sneaking and contemptible. He could not arouse the nobler 
passions or emotions; but he could throw a wet blanket over 
them. It took Frank Glendye and half a pint of good 



28 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

French brandy, to warm the court-house after old Kasm was 
done speaking: but they could do it. 

My client was a respectable butcher: his opponent a 
well-to-do farmer. On getting to the court-house, I found 
the court in session. The clerk was just reading the min- 
utes. My case — I can well speak in the singular — was set 
the first on the docket for that morning. I looked around 
and saw old Kasm, who somehow had found out I was in 
the case, with his green bag and half a library of old books 
on the bar before him. The old fellow gave me a look of 
malicious pleasure — like that of a hungry tiger from his 
lair, cast upon an unsuspecting calf browsing near him. I 
had tried to put on a bold face. I felt that it would be 
very unprofessional to let on to my client that I was at all 
scared, though my heart v/as running down like a jack-screw 
under a heavy wagon. My conscience — I had not practised 
it away then — was not quite easy. I couldn't help feeling 
that it was hardly honest to be leading my client, like Fal- 
staff his men, where he was sure to be peppered. But then 
it was my only chance; my bread depended on it; and I 
reflected that the same thing has to happen in every lawyer's 
practice. I tried to arrange my ideas in form and excogi- 
tate a speech: they flitted through my brain in odds and 
ends. I could neither think nor quit thinking. I would 
lose myself in the first twenty words of the opening sen- 
tence and stop at a particle; — the trail run clean out, I 
would start it again with no better luck: then I thought a 
moment of the disgrace of a dead break-down; and then I 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 29 

would commence again with '' gentlemen of the jury," &c., 
and go on as before. 

At length the judge signed the minutes and took up the 
docket: "Special case — Higginbotham vs. Swink: Slander. 
Mr. Glendye for plfC.; Mr. Kasm for deft. Is Mr. G. in 
court? Call him. Sheriff." The sheriff call three times. 
He might as well have called the dead. No answer of 
course came. Mr. Kasm rose and told the court that he 
was sorry his brother was too much (stroking his chin and 
looking down and pausing) indisposed, or otherwise engaged, 
to attend the case; but he must insist on its being disposed of, 
&c.: the court said it should be. I then spoke up (though 
my voice seemed to me very low down and very hard to get 
up), that I had just been spoken to in the cause: I believed 
we were ready, if the cause must be then tried; but I should 
much prefer it to be laid over, if the court would consent, 
until the next day, or even that evening. Kasm protested ve- 
hemently against this; reminded the court of its peremptory 
order; referred to the former proceedings, and was going on 
to discuss the whole merits of the case, when he was interrupt- 
ed by the judge, who, turning himself to me, remarked that 
he shoulld be happy to oblige me, but that he was precluded 
by what had happened: he hoped, however, that the counsel 
on the other side would extend the desired indulgence; to 
which Kasm immediately rejoined, that this was a case in 
which he neither asked favors nor meant to give them. So 
the case had to go on. Several members of the bar had 
their hats in hand, ready to leave the room when the case 



30 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

was called up; but seeing that I was in it alone, suffered 
their curiosity to get the better of other engagements, and 
staid to see it out; a circumstance which did not diminish 
my trepidation in the least. 

I had the witnesses called up, posted my client behind 
me in the bar, and put the case to the jury. The defendant 
had pleaded justification and not guilty. I got along pretty 
well, I thought, on the proofs. The cross-examination of o^ld 
Kasm didn't seem to me to hurt any thing — though he. 
quibbled, misconstrued, and bullied mightily; objected to 
all my questions as leading, and all the witnesses' answers 
as irrelevant: but the judge, who was a very clever sort of a 
man, and who didn't like Kasm much, helped me along and 
over the bad places, occasionalily taking the examination 
himself when old Kasm had got the statements of the wit- 
ness in a fog. 

I had a strong case; the plaintiff showed a good charac- 
ter: that the lodge of Masons had refused to admit him to 
fellowship until he could clear up these charges: that the 
Methodist Church, of which he was a class-leader, had re- 
quired of him to have these charges judicially settled: that 
he had offered to satisfy the defendant that they were false, 
and proposed to refer it to disinterested men, and to be sat- 
isfied — if they decided for him — to receive a written retrac- 
tion, in which the defendant should only declare he was mis- 
taken; that the defendant refused this proffer and reiterated 
the charges with increased bitterness and aggravated insult; 
that the plaintiff had suffered in reputation and credit; 
that the defendant declared he meant to run him off and 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 31 

buy his land at his (defendant's) own price; and that de- 
fendant was rich, and often repeated his slanders at public 
meetings, and once at the church door, and finally now jus- 
tified. 

The defendant's testimony was weak: it did not contro- 
vert the proof as to the speaking of the words, or the mat- 
ters of aggravation. Many witnesses were examined as to 
the character of the plaintiff; hut those against us only re- 
ferred to what they had heard since the slanders, except one 
who was unfriendly. Some witnesses spoke of butchering 
hogs at night, and hearing them squeal at a late hour at the 
plaintiff's slaughter house, and of the dead hogs they had 
seen with various marks, and something of hogs having been 
stolen in the neighborhood. 

This was about all the proof. 

The plaintiff laid his damages at $10,000. 

I rose to address the jury. By this time a good deal 
of the excitement had worn off. The tremor left, only gave 
me that sort of feeling which is rather favorable than other- 
wise to a public speaker. 

I might have made a pretty good out of it, if I had 
thrown myself upon the merits of my case, acknowledged 
modestly my own inexperience, plainly stated the evidence 
and the law, and let the case go — reserving myself in the 
conclusion for a splurge, if I chose to make one. But the 
evil genius that presides over the first bantlings of all law- 
yerlings, would have it otherwise. The citizens of the town 
and those of the country, then in the village, had gathered 



32 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

in great numbers into the courthouse to hear the speeches 
and I could not miss such an opportunity for display. 

Looking over the jury I found them a plain, matter-of- 
fact looking set of fellows; but I did not note, or probably 
know a fact or two about them, which I found out after- 
wards. 

I started, as I thought, in pretty good style. As I went 
on, however, my fancy began to get the better of my judg- 
ment. Argument and common sense grew tame. Poetry 
and declamation, and, at last, pathos and fiery invective, 
took their place. I grew as quotations as Richard Swivel- 
ler. Shakespeare suffered. I quoted, among other things 
of less value and aptness, " He who steals my purse steals 
trash," &c. I spoke of the woful sufferings of my poor 
client, almost heart-broken beneath the weight of the terrible 
persecutions of his enemy: and, growing bolder, I turned 
on old Kasm, and congratulated the jury that the genius of 
slander had found an appropriate defender in the genius of 
chicane and malignity. I complimented the jury on their 
patience — on their intelligence — on their estimate of the 
value of character; spoke of the public expectation — of that 
feeling outside of the box which would welcome with thun- 
dering plaudits the righteous verdict the jury would render; 
and wound up by declaring that I had never known a case 
of slander so aggravated in the course of my practice at 
that bar; and felicitated myself that its grossness and bar- 
barity justified my client in relying upon even the youth and 
inexperience of an unpractised advocate, whose poverty of 



MY FIRST APPEAEANCE AT THE BAR. 33 

resources was unaided by opportunities of previous prepara- 
tion. Much more I said that happily has now escaped me. 

When I concluded Sam Hicks and one or two other 
friends gave a faint sign of applause — but not enough to 
make any impression. 

I observed that old Kasm held his head down when I 
was speaking. I entertained the hope that I had cowed 
him! His usual port was that of cynical composure, or 
bold and brazen defiance. It was a speciall kindness if he 
only smiled in covert scorn: that was his most amiable ex- 
pression in a trial. 

But when he raised up his head I saw the very devil 
was to pay. His face was of a burning red. He seemed 
almost to choke with rage. His eyes were blood-shot and 
flamed out fire and fury. His queue stuck out behind, and 
shook itself stiffly like a buffalo bull's tail when he is about 
making a fatal plunge. I had struck him between wind and 
water. There was an audacity in a stripling like me beard- 
ing him, which infuriated him. He meant to massacre me 
— and wanted to be a long time doing it. It was to be a 
regular auto da fe. I was to be the representative of the 
young bar, and to expiate his malice against all. The court 
adjourned for dinner. It met again after an hour's recess. 

By this time the public interest, and especially that of 
the bar, grew very great. There was a rush to the privi- 
leged seats, and the sheriff had to command order, — the 
shuffling of feet and the pressure of the crowd forward was 
so great. 



34 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

I took my seat within the bar, looked around with an 
affectation of indifference so belying the perturbation within, 
that the same power of acting on the stage would have made 
my fortune on that theatre. 

Kasm rose — took a glass of water: his hand trembled a 
little — I could see that; took a pinch of snuff, and led off 
in a voice slow and measured, but slightly — very slightly — 
tremulous. By a strong effort he had recovered his compo- 
sure. The bar was surprised at his calmness. They all 
knew it was affected; but they wondered that he could affect 
it. Nobody was deceived by it. We felt assured " It was 
the torrent's smoothness ere it dash below." I thought he 
would come down on me ifi a tempest, and flattered myself 
it would soon be over. But malice is cunning. He had no 
idea of letting me off so easily. 

He commenced by saying that he had been some years 
in the practice. He would not say he v/as an old man: that 
would be in bad taste, perhaps. The young gentleman who 
had just closed his remarkable speech, harangue, poetic effu- 
sion, or rigmarole, or whatever it might be called, if, indeed, 
any name could be safely given to this motley mixture of 
incongruous slang — the young gentleman evidently did not 
think he was an old man; for he could hardly have been 
guilty of such rank indecency as to have treated age with 
such disrespect — he would not say with such insufferable im- 
pertinence: and yet, ''I am," he continued, *' of age enough 
to recollect, if I had charged my memory with so Inconsid- 
erable an event, the day of Ms birth, and then I was in full 



MY FIRST APPEABANCE AT THE BAR. 35 

iractice in this courthouse. I confess, though, gentlemen, I 
m old enough to remember the period when a youth's first 
ppearance at the bar was not signalized by impertinence to- 
vards his seniors; and when public opinion did not think 
latulent bombast; and florid trash, picked out of fifth-rate 
omances and namby-pamby rhymes, redeemed by the up- 
tart sauciness of a raw popinjay, towards the experienced 
nembers of the profession he disgraced. And yet, to some 
ixtent, this ranting youth may be right: I am not old in 
hat sense which dsables me from defending myself here by 
vords, or elsewhere, if need be, by blows: and that, this 
oung gentleman shall right well know before I have done 
vith him. You will bear in mind, gentlemen, that what I 
lay is in self-defence — that I did not begin this quarrel — 
hat it was forced on me; and that I am bound by no re- 
straints of courtesy, or of respect, or of kindness. Let 
lim charge to the account of his own rashness and rudeness, 
vhatever he receives in return therefor. 

" Let me retort on this youth that he is a woirthy advo- 
cate of his butcher client. He fights with the dirty weapons 
)f his barbarous trade, and brings into his speech the reek- 
ng odor of his client's slaughter-house. 

" Perhaps something of this congeniality commended 
aim to the notice of his worthy client, and to this, his first 
etainer: and no wonder, for when we heard his vehement 
roaring, we might have supposed his client had brought his 
Host unruly bull-calf into court to defend him, had not the 
cnatter of the roaring soon convinced us the animail was 



36 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

more remarkable for the length of his ears, than even the 
power of his ilungs. Perhaps the young gentleman has ta- 
ken his retainer, and contracted for butchering my client on 
the same terms as his client contracts in his line — that is, 
on the shares. But I think, gentlemen, he will find the eon- 
tract a more dirty than profitable job. Or, perhaps, it might 
not be uncharitable to suggest that his client, who seems to 
be pretty well up to the business of saving other people's la- 
con, may have desired, as far as possible, to save his own; 
and, therefore turning from members of the bar who would 
have charged him for their services according to their value, 
took this occasion of getting off some of his stale wares; 
for has not Shakespeare said — (the gentleman will allow me 
to quote Shakespeare, too, while yet his reputation survives 
Ms barbarous mouthing of the poet's words) — he knew an 
attorney 'who would defend a cause for a starved hen, or 
leg of mutton fly-blown.' I trust, however, whatever was 
the contract, that the gentleman will make his equally wor- 
thy client stand up to it; for I should like, that on one oc- 
casion it might be said the excetllent butcher was made to 
pay -for his swine. 

" I find it difficult, gentlemen, to reply to any part of the 
young man's effort, except his argument, which is the small- 
est part in compass, and, next to his pathos, the most amus- 
ing. His figures of speech are some of them quite good, 
and have been so considered by the best judges for the last 
thousand years. I must confess, that as to these, I find no 
other fault than that they were badly applied and ridicu- 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 37 

lously pronounced; and this further fault, that they have 
become so common-place by constant use, that, unless some 
new vamping or felicity of application be given them, they 
tire nearly as much as his original matter — videlicet, that 
matter which being more ridiculous than we ever heard be- 
fore, carries internal evidence of its being his own. Indeed, 
it was never hard to tell when the gentleman recurred to 
his own ideas. He is like a cat-bird — the only intolerable 
discord she makes being her own notes — though she gets on 
well enough as long as she copies and cobbles the songs of 
other warblers. 

" But, gentlemen, if this young orator's argument was 
amusing, what shalil I say of his pathos? What farce ever 
equalled the fun of it? The play of 'The Liar' probably 
approaches nearest to it, not only in the humor, but in the 
veracious character of the incidents from which the humor 
comes. Such a face — so woebegone, so whimpering, as if the 
short period since he was flogged at school (probably in 
reference to those eggs falsely charged to the hound puppy) 
had neither obliterated the rememberance of his juvenile aflaic- 
tion, nor the looks he bore when he endured it. 

" There was something exquisite in his picture of the 
woes, the wasting grief of his disconsolate client, the butcher 
Higginbotham, mourning — as Rachel mourned for her chil- 
dren — for his character because it was not. Gentlemen, 
look at him! Why he weighs twelve stone now! He has 
three inches of fat on his ribs this minute! He would make 
as many links of sausage as any hog that ever squealed at 



38 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

midnight in his slaughter pen, and has lard enough in him 
to cook it all. Look at his face! why, his chops remind a 
hungry man of jowls and greens. If this is a shadow, in 
the name of propriety, why didn't he show himself, when in 
flesh, at the last Fair, beside the Kentucky ox; that were a 
more honest way of making a living than stealing hogs. 
But Hig is pining in grief! I wonder the poetic youth — 
his learned counsel — did not quote Shakespeare again. ' He 
never toild his ' — woe — ' but let concealment, like the worm 
i' the bud, prey on his damask cheek.' He looked like 
Patience on a monument smiling at grief — or beef I should 
rather say. But, gentlemen, probably I am wrong; it may 
be that this tender-hearted, sensitive butcher, was lean be- 
fore, and like Falstaff, throws the blame of his fat on sorrow 
and sighing, which ' has puffed him up like a bladder.' 
(Here Higgingbotham left in disgust.) 

" There, gentlemen, he goes, ' larding the lean earth as 
he walks along.' Well has Doctor Johnson said, ' who kills 
fat oxen should himself be fat.' Poor Hig! stuffed like one 
of his own blood-puddings, with a dropsical grief which 
nothing short of ten thousand dollars of Swink's money can 
cure. Well, as grief puffs him up, I don't wonder that 
nothing but depleting another man can cure him. 

"And now, gentlemen, I come to the blood and thunder 
part of this young gentleman's harangue: empty and vapid; 
words and nothing else. If any part of his rigmarole was 
windier than any other part, this was it. He turned him- 
self into a smalll cascade, making a great deal of noise to 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 39 

make a great deal of froth; tumbling; roaring; foaming; 
the shallower it ran all the noiser it seemed. He fretted 
and knitted his brows; he beat the air and he vociferated, 
always emphasizing the meaningless words' most loudly; 
he puffed, swelled out and blowed off, until he seemed 
like a new belHows, all brass and wind. How he mouthed it 
— as those villainous stage players ranting out fustian in a 
barn theatre, [mimicking] — 'Who steals my purse steels trash.' 
(I don't deny it.) ' 'Tis something.' (query?) 'nothing.' 
(exactly.) ' Tis mine; 'twas his, and has been slave to 
thousands — but he who filches from me my good name, robs 
me of that which not enricheth him,' (not in the least,) ' but 
makes me poor indeed;' (just so, but whether any poorer 
than before he parted with the encumbrance, is another mat- 
ter.) 

But the young gentleman refers to his youth. He ought 
not to reproach us of maturer age in that indirect way : no one 
would have suspected it of him or him of it, if he had not 
told it: indeed, from hearing him speak, we were prepared 
to give him credit for almost any length of ears. But does 
hot the youth remember that Grotius was only seventeen 
when he was in full practice, and that he was Attorney Gen- 
eral at twenty-two; and what is Grotius to this greater light? 
Not the burning of my smoke house to the conflagration of 
Moscow! 

"And yet, young Grotius tells us in the next breath, that 
he never knew such a slander in the course of his practice? 
Wonderful, indeed! seeing that his practice has all been 



40 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

done within the last six hours. Why, to hear him talk, you 
would suppose that he was an old Continental lawyer, grown 
grey in the service. H-i-s p-r-a-c-t-i-c-e! Why he is just in 
his legal swaddling cllothes! His Practice!! But I don't 
wonder he can't see the absurdity of such talk. How long 
does it take one of the canine tribe, after birth, to open his 
eyes! 

"He talked, too, of outside influences; of the public ex- 
pectations, and all that sort of demagoguism. I observed 
no evidence of any great popular demonstrations in his favor, 
unless it be a tailor I saw stamping his feet; but whether 
that was because he had sat cross-legged so long he wanted 
exercise, ov was rejoicing because he had got orders for a new 
suit, or a prospect of payment for an old one, the gentleman 
can possibly teill better than I can. (Here Hicks left.) How- 
ever, if this case is to be decided by the populace here, the 
gentleman will allow me the benefit of a writ of error to the 
regimental muster, to be held, next Friday, at Reinhert's Dis- 
tillery. 

" But, I suppose he meant to frighten you into a verdict, 
by intimating that the mob, frenzied by Jiis eloquence, would 
tear you to pieces if you gave a verdict for defendant; like 
the equally eloquent barrister out West, who, concluding a 
case, said, ' Gentlemen, my client are as innocent of stealing 
that cotting as the Sun at noonday, and if you give it agin 
him, his brother, Sam Ketchins, next muster, will maul eve- 
ry mother's son of you.' I hope the Sheriff will see to his 
duty and keep the crov/d from you, gentlemen, if you should 
give us a verdict! 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 41 

" But, gentlemen, I am tired of winnowing chaff; I have 
not had the reward paid by Gratiano for sifting his discourse: 
the two grains of wheat to the bushel. It is all froth — all 
wind — all bubble." 

Kasm left me here for a time, and turned upon my client. 
Poor Higginbotham caught it thick and heavy. He wooled 
him, then skinned him, and then took to skinning off the un- 
der cuticle. Hig never skinned a beef so thoroughly. He 
put together all the facts about the witnesses' hearing the 
hogs sqealing at night; the different marks of the hogs; the 
losses in the neighborhood; perverted the testimony and 
supplied omissions, until you would suppose, on hearing him, 
that it had been fully proved that poor Hig had stolen all 
the meat he had ever sold in the market. He asseverated 
that this suit was a malicious conspiracy between the Metho- 
dists and Masons, to crush his client. But all this I leave 
out, as not bearing on the main su'bject — myself. 

He came back to me with a renewed appetite. He said 
he would conclude by paying his valedictory respects to his 
juvenile friend — as this was the last time he ever expected 
to have the pleasure of meeting him. 

" That poetic young gentleman had said, that by your 
verdict against his client, you would blight for ever his repu- 
tation and that of his family — ' that you would bend down 
the spirit of his manly son, and dim the radiance of his bloom- 
ing daughter's beauty.' "Very pretty, upon my word! But, 
gentilemen, not so fine — not so poetical by half, as a precious 
morceau of poetry which adorns the columns of the village 



42 SKETCHES OF THE Ft,USH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

newspaper, bearing the initials J. C. R. As this admirable 
production has excited a great deal of applause in the nur- 
series and boarding schools, I must beg to read it; not for 
the instruction of the gentleman, he has already seen it; but 
for the entertainment of the Jury. It is addressed to R* * * 
B* * *, a young lady of this place. Here it goes." 

Judge my horror, when, on looking up, I saw him take an 
old newspaper from his pocket, and, pulling down his spec- 
tacles, begin to read off in a stage-actor style, some verses I 
had written for Rose Bell's Album. Rose had been worry- 
ing me for some time, to write her something. To get rid 
of her importunities, I had scribbled off a few lines and cop- 
ied them in the precious volume. Rose, the little fool, 
took them for something very clever (she never had more 
than a thimbleful of brains in her doll-baby head) — and was 
so tickled with them, that she got her brother. Bill, then 
about fourteen, to copy them off, as well as he could, and 
take them to the printing oflBce. Bill threw them under the 
door; the printer, as big a fool as either, not only published 
them, but, in his infernal kindness, puffed them in some criti- 
cal commendations of his own, referring to " the gifted au- 
thor," as " one of the most promising of the younger mem- 
bers of our bar." 

The fun, by this time, grew fast and furious. The coun- 
try people, who have about as much sympathy for a young 
town lawyer, badgered by an older one, as for a young cub 
beset by curs; and who have about as much idea or respect 
for poetry, as for witchcraft, joined in the mirth with great 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 43 

glee. They crowded around old Kasm, and stamped and 
roared as at a circus. The Judge and Sheriff in vain tried 
to keep order. Indeed, his honor smiled out loud once or 
twice; and to cover his retreat, pretended to cough, and fined 
the Sheriff five dollars for not keeping silence in court. Even 
the old Clerk, whose immemoTial pen behind his right ear 
had worn the hair from that side of his head, and who had 
not smiled in court for twenty years, and boasted that Pat- 
rick Henry couldn't disturb him in making up a judgment 
entry, actually turned his chair from the desk and put down 
his pen: afterwards he put his hand to his head three times 
in search of it; forgetting, in his attention to old Kasm, what 
he had done with it. 

Old Kasm went on reading and commenting by turns. I 
forget what the ineffable trash was. I wouldn't recollect it 
if I could. My equanimity will only stand a phrase or two 
that still lingers in my memory, fixed there by old Kasm's 
ridicule. I had said something about my " bosom's anguish " 
— about the passion that was consuming me; and, to illus- 
trate it, or to make the line jingle, put in something about 
" Egypt's Queen taking the Asp to her bosom " — which, for 
the sake of rhyme or metre, I called " the venomous worm " 
— how the confounded thing was brought in, I neither know 
nor want to know. When old Kasm came to that, he said 
he fully appreciated what the young bard said — he believed 
it. He spoke of venomous worms. Now, if he (Kasm) might 
presume to give the young gentleman advice, he would re^ 
commend Swain's Patent Vermifuge. He had no doubt that 



44 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

it would effectually cure him of his malady, his love, and last, 
but not least, of his rhymes — which v/ould be the happiest 
passage in his eventful history. 

I couldn't stand it any longer. I had borne it to the last 
point of human endurance. When it came only to skinning, 
I was there; but when he showered down aquafortis on the 
raw, and then seemed disposed to rub it in, I fled. AMi, 
erupi, evasL The last thing I heard was old Kasm calling 
me back, amidst the shouts of the audience — but no moire. 

The next information I received of the case, was in a let- 
ter that came to me at Natchez, my new residence, from 
Hicks, about a month afterwards, telling me that the jury (on 
which I should have stated olid Kasm had got two infidels 
and four anti-masons) had given in a verdict for defendant: 
that before the court adjourned, Frank Glendye had got so- 
ber, and moved for a new trial, on the ground that the ver- 
dict was against evidence, and that the plaintiff had not had 
justice, l)y reason of the incompetency of Ms counsel, and the 
abandonment of his cause; and that he got a new trial (as 
well he should have done). 

I learned through Hicks, some twelve months later that 
the case had been tried; that Frank Glendye had made one 
of his greatest and most eloquent speeches; that Glendye 
had joined the Temperance Society, and was now one of the 
soberest and most attentive men to business at the bar, and 
was at the head of it in practice; that Higginbotham had 
recovered a verdict of $2000, and had put Swink in for $500 
costs, besides. 



MY FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE BAR. 45 

Hick's fletter gave me, too, the melancholy intelligence of 
old Kasm's death. He had died in an apoplectic fit, in the 
court house, while abusing an old preacher who had testified 
against him in a crim. con. case. He enclosed the proceed- 
ings of a bar meeting, in v/hich " the melancholy dispensation 
which called our beloved brother hence while in the active 
discharge of his duties," was much deplored; but, with a pi- 
ous resignation, which was greatly to be admired, "they sub- 
mitted to the will," &c., and, with a confidence old Kasm 
himself, if alive, might have envied, " trusted he had gone to 
a better and brighter world," &c., v/hich carried the doc- 
trine of Universalism as far as it could well go. They con- 
cluded by resolving that the bar would wear crape on the left 
arm for thirty days. I don't know what the rest did, I 
didn't. Though not mentioned in his will, he had left me 
something to remember him by. Bright be the bloom and 
sweet the fragrance of the thistles on his grave! 

Reader! I eschewed genius from that day. I took to ac- 
counts; did up every species of paper that came into my office 
with a tape string; had pigeon holes for all the bits of paper 
about me; walked down the street as if I were just going to 
bank and it wanted only five minutes to three o'clock; got 
me a green bag and stuffed it full of old newpapers, care- 
fulily folded and labelled; read law, to fit imaginary cases, 
with great industry; dunned one of the wealthiest men in the 
city for fifty cents; sold out a widow for a twenty dollar debt, 
and bought in her things myself, publicly (and gave them 
back to her secretly, afterwards); associated only with skin- 



46 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

flints, brokers and married men, and discussed investments 
and stocks; soon got into business; looked wise and shook 
my head when I was consulted, and passed for a " powerful 
good judge of law; " confirmed the opinion by reading, in 
court, all the books and papers I could lay my hands on, and 
clearing out the court-house by hum-drum details, common- 
place and statistics, whenever I made a speech at the bar — 
and thus, by this course of things, am able to write from my 
sugar plantation, this memorable history of the fall of genius 
and the rise of solemn humbug! J. C. R. 



THE BENCH AND THE BAK. 47 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 

In the month of March, a. d., 1836, the writer of these 
faithful chronicles of law-doings in the South West, duly 
equipped for forensic warfare, having perused nearly the whole 
of Sir William Blackstone's Commentaries on the Laws of 
England, 'left behind him the red hills of the village of B — , 
in the valley of the Shenandoah, to seek his fortune. He 
turned his horse's head to the setting sun. His loyalty 
to the Old Dominion extorts the explanation that his was 
no voluntary expatriation. He went under the compulsion 
which produced the author's hook — " Urged by hunger and 
request of friends." The gentfe momentum of a female slip- 
per, too, it might as well be confessed, added its moral sua- 
sion to the more pressing urgencies of breakfast, dinner and 
supper. To the South West he started because magnificent 
accounts came from that sunny land of most cheering and ex- 
hilarating prospects of fussing, quarrelling, murdering, viola- 
tion of contracts, and the whole catalogue of crimen falsi — 
in fine, of a flush tide of litigation in all of its departments, 
civil and criminal. It was extolled as a legal Utopia, peopled 



48 SKETCHES OF THE, FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

by a race of eager litigants, only waiting for the lawyers to come 
on and divide out to them the shells of a bountiful system ol 
squabbling: a California of Law, whose surface strife only\i 
indicated the vast placers of legal dispute waiting in untoldl 
profusion, the presence of a few craftsmen to bring out the 
crude suits to some forum, or into chancery for trial or essay. 
He resigned prospects of great brilliancy at home. HiS; 
family connections were numerous, though those of influence; 
were lawyers themselves, which made this fact only contin- 
gently beneficial — to wit, the contigency of their dying be- 
fore him — which was a sort of remotissima potentia, seeing 
they were in the enjoyment of excellent health, the profession 
being remarkably salubrious in that village; and seeing fur- 
ther, that, after their death, their influence might be gone. 
Not counting, therefore, too much on this advantage, it was a 
well-ascertained fact that no man of real talent and energy — 
and, of course, every lawyerling has both at the start — had 
ever come to that bar, who did not, in the course of five or 
six years, with any thing like moderate luck, make expenses, 
and, surviving that short probation on board wages, lay up 
money, ranging from $250 to $500, according to merit and 
good fortune, per annum. In evidence of the correctness of 
this calculation, it may be added that seven young gentlemen, 
all of fine promise, were enjoying high life — in upper stories 
— cultivating the cardinal virtues of Faith and Hope in them- 
selves, and the greater virtue of Charity in their friends — 
the only briefs as yet known to them being brief of money 
and brief of credit; their barrenness of fruition in the day 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 49 

time relieved by oriental dreams of fairy clients, with fifteen 
shilling fees in each hand, and glorious ten dollar contingents 
in the perspective, beckoning them on to Fame and Fortune. 
But Poverty, the rugged mother of the wind-sellers of all 
times and countries, as poor Peter Peebles so irreverently 
caills our honorable craft, — the Necessity which knows no 
Law, yet teaches so much of it, tore him from scenes and 
prospects of such allurement: with the heroism of old Regu- 
lus, he turned his back upon his country and put all to haz- 
ard — videlicet, a pony valued at $35, a pair of saddle-bags 
and contents, a new razor not much needed at that early day, 
and $75 in Virginia bank bills. 

Passing leisurely along through East Tennessee, he was 
struck with the sturdy independence of the natives, of the 
enervating refinements of artificial society and its concomi- 
tants; not less than with the patriotic encouragement they 
extended to their own productions and manufactures: the 
writer frequently saw pretty farmers' daughters working bare- 
footed in the field, and his attention was often drawn to the 
number of the distilleries and to evident symptoms of a lib- 
eral patronage of their products. He stopped at a seat of 
Justice for half a day, while court was in session, to witness 
the manner in which the natives did up judicature; but with 
the exception of a few cases under a statute of universal au- 
thority and delicacy, he saw nothing of special interest; and 
these did not seem to excite much attention beyond the do- 
mestic circle. 

The transition from East Tennessee to South Western 



il 



50 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

Alabama and East Mississippi was something marked. I 

was somewhat like a sudden change from "Sleepy Hollow' 

to the Strand. A man, retailing onions by the dozen ii 

Weathersfielld, and the same man suddenly turned into i 

real estate broker in San Francisco, would realize the con 

trast between the picayune standard of the one region, anc 

ji 
the wild spendthriftism, the impetuous rush and the magnifi! 

cent scale of operations in the other. 

The writer pitched his tabernacle on the thither side of! 
the state line of Alabama, in the charming village of P., onee 
of the loveliest hamlets of the plain, or rather it would be,!,, 
did it not stand on a hill. Gamblers, then a numerous class, 
included, the village boasted a population of some five hun- 
dred souls; about a third of whom were single gentlemen whoD 
had come out on the vague errand of seeking their fortune, 
or the more definite one of seeking somebody else's; philoso-- 
phers who mingled the spirit of Anacreon with the enterprise 
of Astor, and who enjoyed the present as well as laid projects 
for the future, to be worked out for their own profit upon the 
safe plan of some other persons's risk. 

Why he selected this particular spot for his locus in quo, 
is easily told. The capital he had invested in emigration 
was nearly expended and had not as yet declared any divi- 
dend; and, with native pride, he was ambitious to carry money 
enough with him to excite the hopes of his landlord. Be- 
sides, he was willing to try his hand on the practice where 
competition was not formidable. 

The " accommodations " at the "American Hotel " were 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 51 

lot such as were calculated to beguile a spiritual mind to 
;hings of sense. The writer has been at the Astor, the Re- 
r^ere and the St. Charles since, and did not note the resem- 
)lance. A huge cross-piece, ilike a gibbet, stood before the 
ioor — the usual inn-sign of the country; and though a very 
ipt device as typifying death, it was not happy in denoting 
he specific kind of destruction that menaced the guest. The 
'^igor of his constitution, however, proved sufficient for the 
rial; though, for a long time, the contest was dubious. 

In the fall of the year so scarce were provisions — bull- 
)eef excepted, which seemed to be every where — that we 
vere forced to eat green corn, baked or fried with lard, for 
)read; and he remembers, when biscuits came again, a mad 
vag, Jim Cole, shouted out from the table that he should cer- 
ainly die now, for want of a new bolting cloth to his throat. 

A shed for an office procured, the next thing was a li- 
lense; and this a Circuit Judge was authorized to grant, 
vhich service was rendered by the Hon. J. F. T. in a manner 
^hich shall ever inspire gratitude — he asking not a single 
egal question; an eloquent silence which can never be appre- 
liated except by those who are unable to stand an examina- 
ion. 

This egotism over, and its purpose of merely introducing 
he witness accomplished, the narrative will proceed without 
urther mention of him or his fortunes; and if any reader 
hinks he loses any thing by this abbreviation, perhaps it will 
)e full consolation to him to know that if it proceeded fur- 
her, the author might lose a great deail more, 



52 SKETCHES OF THE tf-LUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

Dropping the third for the more convenient first person 
he will proceed to give some account of what was done by oi 
to Themis in that part of her noisy domain. 



Those were jolly times. Imagine thirty or forty young 
men collected together in a new country, armed with fresh 
licenses which they had got gratuitously, and a plentiful 
stock of brass which they had got in the natural way; andd 
standing ready to supply any distressed citizen who wanted^ 
law, with their wares counterfeiting the article. I must con- 
fess it looked to me something like a swindle. It was doing? 
business on the wooden nutmeg, or rather the patent brass-- 
clock principle. There was one consolation: the clients were^ 
generally as sham as the counsellors. For the most part, 
they were either broke or in a rapid decline. They usually 
paid us the compliment of retaining us, but they usually re- 
tained the fee too, a double retainer we did not much fancy. 
However, we got as much as we were entitled to and some- 
thing over, videlicet, as much over as we got at all. The 
most that we made was experience. We learned before long, 
how every possible sort of case could be successfully lost; there 
was no way of getting out of court that we had not tested. The 
last way we learned was via a verdict: it was a considerable 
triumph to get to the jury, though it seemed a sufficiently 
easy matter to get away from one again. But the perils of 
the road from the writ to an issue or issues — for there were 
generally several of them — were great indeed. The way was 
infested and ambushed, with all imaginable points of practice 



THE BENCH AND THE BAB. 53 

g[uirks and quibbles, that had strayed off from the litigation 
of every sort of foreign judicature, — that had been success- 
fully tried in, or been driven out of, regulanly organized fo- 
rums, besides a smart sprinkling of indigenous growth. Noth- 
ing was settled. Chaos had come again, or rather, had never 
gone away. Order, Heaven's first law seemed unwilling to 
remain where there was no other law to keep it company. I 
spoke of the thirty or forty barristers on their first legs — 
but I omitted to speak of the older members who had had 
the advantage of several years' practice and precedence. 
These were the leaders on the Circuit. They had the law — 
that is the practice and rulings of the courts — and kept it as 
a close monopoly. The eai-iliest information we got of it was 
when some precious dogma was drawn out on us with fatal 
effect. They had conned the statutes for the last fifteen 
years, which were inaccessible to us, and we occasionally, 
much to our astonishment, got the benefit of instruction in a 
clause or two of " the act in such cases made and provided " 
at a considerable tuition fee to be paid by our clients. Oc- 
casionally, too, a repealed statute was revived for our especial 
benefit. The courts being forbidden to charge except as spe- 
cially asked, took away from us, in a great measure, the pro- 
tection of the natural guardians of our ignorant innocence: 
there could be no prayer for general relief, and we did not — 
many of us — know how to pray specially, and always ran 
great risks of prejudicing our cases before the jury, by hav- 
ing instructions refused. It was better to trust to the *' un- 
convenanted mercies " of the jury, and risk a decision on the 



54 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

honesty of the thing, than blunder along after charges. A\ 
to reserving points except as a bluff or scarecrow, that was 
thing unheard of: the Supreme Court was a perfect terra iw 
cognita: we had all heard there was such a place, as we hac 
heard of Heaven's Chancery, to which the Accusing Spirii 
took up Uncle Toby's oath, but we as little knew the way ther© 
and as little expected to go there. Out of one thousand 
cases, butchered in cold blood without and with the forms oi 
law, not one in that first year's practice, ever got to the Highl 
Court of Errors and Appeals; (or, as Prentiss called it, the( 
Court of High Errors and Appeals.) No wonder we neverii 
started. How could we ever get them there? If we had tod 
run a gauntlet of technicalities and quibbles to get a judg-;l 
ment on " a plain note of hand," in the Circuit Court, Tami; 
O'Shanter's race through the witches, would be nothing tool 
the journey to and through the Supreme Court! It wouldlj 
have been a writ of error indeed — or rather a writ of many/ 
errors. This is but speculation, however — we never tried itt 
— the experiment was too much even for our brass. The 3 
leaders were a good deal but not generally retained. The? 
reason was, they wanted the money, or like Falstaff's mercer, 
good security; a most uncomfortable requisition with the 
mass of our litigants. We, of the locall bar trusted — so did 
our clients: it is hard to say which did the wildest credit 
business. 

The leaders were sharp fellows — keen as briars — au fait 
in all trap points — quick to discern small errors — perfect in 
forms and ceremonies — very pharisees in "anise, mint and 



THE BENCH AZs'D THE BAR. 55 

cummin — J)ut neglecting judgment and the loeightier mat- 
ters of the law." They seemed to think that judicature was 
a tanyard — clients skins to be curried — the court the mill, 
and the thing " to work on their leather " with — hark : the 
idea that justice had any thing to do with trying causes, or 
sense had any thing to do with legail principles, never seemed 
to occur to them once, as a possible conception. 

Those were quashing times, and they were the out quash- 
ingest set of fellows ever known. They moved to quash eve- 
ry thing, from a venire to a subpoena: indeed, I knew one of 
them to quash the whole court, on the ground that the Board 
of Police was bound by law to furnish the building for hold- 
ing the Court, and there was no proof that the building in 
which the court was sitting was so furnished. They usually, 
however, commenced at the capias — and kept quashing on 
until they got to the forthcoming bond which, being set aside, 
released the security for the debt, and then, generally, it was 
no use to quash any thing more. In one court, forthcoming 
bonds, to the amount of some hundred thousands of dollars, 
were quashed, because the execution was written " State of 
Mississippi " — instead of " the State of Mississippi," the con- 
stitution requiring the style of process to be the State of 
Mississippi: a quashing process which vindicated the consti- 
tution at the expense of the foreign creditors in the matter 
of these bonds, almost as effectively as a subsequent vindica- 
tion in respect of other bonds, about which more clamor was 
raised. 

Attachments were much resorted to, there being about 



56 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

that time as the pressure was coming on, a lively stampede 
to Texas. It became the interest of the debtors and their 
securities, and of rival creditors, to quash these, and quashed 
they were, almost without exception. J. H. was sheriff of 
W., and used to keep a book in which he noted the disposi- 
tion of the cases called on the docket. Opposite nearly eve- 
ry attachment case, was the brief annotation — " quashed for 
the lack of form." This fatality surprised me at first, as the 
statute declared the attachment law should be liberally con- 
strued, and gave a form, and the act required on!ly the sub- 
stantial requisites of the form to be observed: but it seems 
the form given for the bond in the statute, varied materially 
from the requirements of the statute in other portions of the 
act: and so the circuit courts held the forms to be a sort of 
legislative gull trap, by following which, the creditor lost his 
debt. 

This ingenious turn for quibbling derived great assistance 
and many occasions of exercise from the manner in which 
business had been done, and the character of the officials who 
did it, or rather who didn't do it. The justices of the peace, 
probate judges, and clerks, and sheriffs, were not unfrequently 
in a state of as unsophisticated ignorance of conventionalities 
as could be desired by J. J. Rousseau or any other eulogist 
of the savage state. They were all elected by the people 
who neither knew nor cared whether they were qualified or 
not. If they were " good fellows " and wanted the office, 
that is, were too poor and lazy to support themselves in any 
other way, that was enough. If poor John Rogers, with 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 57 

nine small children and one at the breast, had been in Mis- 
sissippi instead of Smithfield, he could have got any ofRce he 
wanted, that is, if he had quit preaching and taken to treat- 
ing. The result of these official blunders was, that about 
every other thing done at all, was done wrong: indeed, the 
only question was as between void and voidable. Even in 
capital cases, the convictions were worth nothing — the record 
not showing enough to satisfy the High Court that the pris- 
oner was tried in the county, or at the pilace required by law, 
or that the grand jury were freeholders, &c., of the county 
where the offence was committed, or that they had found a 

bill. They had put an old negro, Cupid, in C county, 

in question for his life, and convicted him three times, but 
the conviction never would stick. The last time the jury 
brought him in guilty, he was very composedly eating an 
apple. The sheriff asked him how he liked the idea of being 
hung. " Hung," said he — " hung! You don't think they 
are going to hang me, do you? I don't mind these little 
circuit judges: wait till old Shurkey says the word in the 
High Court, and then it will be time enough to be getting 
ready." 

But if quashing was the general order of the day, it was 
the special order when the State docket was taken up. 
Such quashing of indictments! It seemed as by a curious 
display of skill in missing, the pleader never could get an 
indictment to hold water. I recollect S., who was prosecut- 
ing pro tern, for the State, convicted a poor Indian of mur- 
der, the Indian having only counsel volunteering on his 



58 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



' 



arraignment; S. turned around and said with emphatic com 
placency: "I tell you, gentlemen, there is a fatality attend- j 
ing my indictments." " Yes," rejoiced B., " they are gen- ] 
erally quashed." 

It was in criminal trials that the juniors flourished. 
We went into them with the same feeling of irresponsibility 
that Allen Fairfield went into the tria'l of poor Peter Pee- 
ble's suit vs. Plainstaines, namely — that there was but little 
danger of hurting the case. Any ordinary jury would have 
acquitted nine cases out of ten without counsel's instigating 
them thereto — to say nothing of the hundred avenues of es- 
cape through informalities and technical points. In fact, 
criminals were so unskilfully defended in many instances, 
that the jury had to acquit in spite of the counsel. Almost 
any thing made out a case of self-defence — a threat — a quar- 
rel — an insult — going armed, as almost all the wild fellows 
did — shooting from behind a corner, or out of a store door, 
in front or from behind — it was all self-defence! The only 
skill in the matter, was in getting the right sort of a jury, 
which fact couild be easily ascertained, either from the gene- 
ral character of the men, or from certain discoveries the 
defendant had been enabled to make in his mingling among 
" his friends and the public generally," — for they were all, 
or nearly all, let out on bail or v\dthout it. UsuaUy, the 
sherijfi;, too, was a friendly man, and not inclined to omit a 
kind service that was likely to be remembered with gratitude 
at the next election. 

The major part of criminal cases, except misdemeanors, 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 59 

were for killing, or assaults with intent to kill They were 
usually defended upon points of chivalry. The iron rules 
of British law were too tyrannical for free Americans, and 
too cold and unfeeling for the hot blood of the sunny south. 
They were denounced accordingly, and practically scouted 
from Mississippi 'judicature, on the broad ground that they 
were unsuited to the genius of American institutions and 
the American character. There was nothing technical in 
this, certainly. 

But if the case was a hopeless or very dangerous one, 
there was another way to get rid of it. " The world was all 
before " the culprit " where to choose." The jails were in 
such a condition — generally small log pens — that they held 
the prisoner very little better than did the indictment: for 
the most part, they held no one but Indians, who had no 
friend outside who could help them, and no skill inside to 
prize out. It was a matter of free eilection for the culprit 
in a desperate case, whether he would remain in jail or not; 
and it is astonishing how few exercised their privilege in 
favor of staying. The pains of exile seemed to present no 
stronger tars to expatriation, than the jail doors or win- 
dows. 

The inefficiency of the arresting officers, too, was gener- 
ally such that the malefactor could wind up his affairs and 
leave before the constable was on his track. If he gave bail, 
there were the chances of breaking the bond or recognizance, 
and the assurance against injury, derived from the fact that 
the recognizors were already broke. 



(30 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

The aforesaid leaders carried it with a high hand over 
us lawyerlings. If they took nothing by their false Clamor, 
they certain'ly lost nothing by sleeping on their rights, or by 
failing to claim all they were entitled to. What they couldn't t 
get by asking the court, they got by sneering and brow-beat- 
ing. It was pleasant to watch the countenances of some of 
them when one of us made a motion, or took a point, or ask- 
ed a question of a witness that they disapproved of. They 
could sneer like Malgroucher, and scold like like Madame Cau- 
dle, and hector like Bully Ajax. 

We had a goodly youth, a Hittle our senior but more 
their junior, a goodly youth from the Republic of South 
Carolina, Jim T. by name. The elders had tried his mettle: 
he wouldn't fag for them, but stood up to them like a man. 
Wben he came to the bar, Sam J. made a motion at him on 
the motion docket, requiring him to produce his original 
book of entries on the trial or be non suit. (He had brought 
an action of assumpsit on a blacksmith's account.) When 
the case was called, Sam demanded whether the book was in 
court. Jim told him " No, and it wouldn't be," and denied 
his right to call for it; whereupon, Sam let the motion go, 
and suffered Jim T. to go on and prove the account and get 
the verdict; a feat worthy of no little praise. Jim was equal 
to any of them in law, knowledge and talent, and superior in 
application and self-confidence, if that last could be justly 
said of mere humanity. He rode over us rough-shod, but we 
forgave him for it in consideration of his worrying the elders, 
and standing up to the rack. He was the best lawyer of his 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. Q\ 

age I had ever seen. He had accomplished himself in the 
elegant science of special pleading, — had learned aU the arts 
of confusing a case by all manner of pleas and motions, and 
took as much interest in enveloping a plain suit in all the 
cobwebs of technical defence as Vidocq ever took in laying 
snares for a rogue. He could " entangle justice in such a 
web of law," that the blind hussey could have never found 
her way out again if Theseus had been there to give her the 
clew. His thought by day and his meditation by night, 
was special pleas. He loved a demurrer as Domine Dobien- 
sis loved a pun — with a solemn affection. He could draw 
a volume of pleas a night, each one so nearly presenting a 
regular defence, that there was scarcely any telling whether 
it hit it or not. If we replied, ten to one he demurred to 
the replication, and would assign fifteen special causes of de- 
murrer in as many minutes. If we took issue, we ran an 
imminent risk of either being caught up on the facts, or of 
having the judgment set aside as rendered on an immaterial 
issue. It was always dangerous to demur, for the demurrer 
being overruled, the defendant was entitled to judgment 
final. Cases were triable at the first term, if the writ had 
been served tvv^enty days before court. It may be seen, there- 
fore, at a glance, that, with an overwhelming docket, and 
without books, or time to consult them if at hand, and with- 
out previous knowledge, we were not reposing either on a 
bed of roses or of safety. Jim T. was great on variances, too. 
If the note was not described properly in the declaration, 
we were sure to catch it before the jury; and, if any point 



62 SKETCHES OF THE FiUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

could be made on the proofs, he was sure to make it. How 
we trembled when we began to read the note to the jury! 
And how ominous seemed the words " I object " — of a most 
cruel and untimely end about being put to our case. How 
many cases where, on a full presentment of the legal merits 
of them, there was no pretence of a defence, he gained, it is im- 
possible to tell. But if the ghosts of the murdered victims 
could now arise, Macbeth would have had an easy time of it 
compared with Jim T. How we admired, envied, feared and 
hated him! With what a bold, self-relying air he took his 
points! With what sarcastic emphasis he replied to our de- 
fences and half defences! We thought that he knew all the 
law there was: and when, in a short time, he caught the old 
leaders up, we thought if we couldn't be George Washington, 
how we should like to be Jim T. 

He has risen since that time to merited distinction as a 
ripe and finished lawyer; yet, " in his noon of fame," he nev- 
er so tasted the luxury of power, — never so knew the bliss 
of envied and unapproached pre-eminence, as when in the old 
log court-houses he was throwing the boys right and left as 
fast as they came to him, by pleas dilatory, sham and meri- 
torious, demurrers, motions and variances. So infallible was 
his skill in these infernal arts, that it was almost a tempting 
of Providence not to employ him. 

I never thought Jim acted altogether fairly by squire A. 
The squire had come to the bar rather late in life, and though 
an excellent justice and a sensible man, was not profoundly 
versed in the metaphysics of special pleading. He was par- 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. g3 

icularly pleased when he got to a jury on ' a plain note,' and 
)articularly annoyed when the road was blocked up by pleas 
n abatement and demurrers or special pleas in bar. He 
lad the most unlimited admiration of Jim. Indeed, he had 
m awful reverence for him. He looked up to him as Bos- 
vell looked up to Sam Johnson, or Timothy to Paul. The 
quire had a note he v/as anxious to get judgment on. He 
lad declared with great care and after anxious deliberation, 
s^ot only was the declaration copied from the most approv- 
d precedent, but the common counts were all put in with 
ill due punctilios, to meet every imaginable phase the case 
ou'ld assume. Jim found a variance in the count on the 
lote: but how to get rid of the common counts was the dif- 
iculty. He put a bold face on the matter, however, went 
ip to A. in the court-house, and threw himself into a pas- 
sion. " Well," said he, with freezing dignity — " I see, sir, 
y^ou have gone and put the common counts in this declara- 
ion — do I understand you to mean them to stand? I desire 
to be informed, sir?" "Why, y-e-s, that is, I put 'em there 

—but look here, H ; what are you mad at? What's 

wrong?" "What's wrong?" — a pretty question! Do you 
pretend, sir, that my client ever borrowed any money of 
yours — that yours ever paid out money for mine? Did your 
client ever give you instructions to sue mine for borrowed 
money? No, sir, you know he didn't. Is that endorsed on 
the writ? No, sir. Don't you know the statute requires 
the cause of action to be endorsed on the capias ad respon- 
dendum? I mean to see whether an action for a malicious 



f54 SKETCHES OF THE, FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



suit wouldn't lie for this; and shall move to strike out a] 

these counts as multifarious and incongruous and heteroge 

neous." " Weill, Jim, don't get mad about it, old fellow — 

i 
took it from the books." " Yes, from the English books — bui 

didn't you know we don't govern ourselves by the Britisl 

statute? — if you don't, I'll instruct you." "Now," said A. 

" Jim, hold on — all I want is a fair trial — if you will let m^ 

go to the jury, I'll strike out these common counts." " Well,' 

said Jim, "/ will this time, as it is you; but let this be a; 

warning to you. A., how you get to suing my clients on pro i 

miscuous, and fictitious, and pretensed causes of action." 

Accordingly they joined issue on the count in chief — A. 

offered to read his note — H. objected — it was voted out, and 

A. was nonsuited. " Now," said Jim, " that is doing thesi 

thing in the regular way. See how pleasant it is to get oni' 

with business when the rules are observed!" 



The case of most interest at the fall term of N — e court,. 
1837, was the State of Mississippi vs. Major Foreman, charg- 
ed with assault v/ith intent to kill one Tommy Peabody, a 
Yankee schoolmaster in the neighborhood of M — ville. The 
District Attorney being absent, the court appointed J. T. to 
prosecute. All the preliminary motions and points of order 
having been gone through, and having failed of success, the 
defendant had to go to trial before the jury. The defendant 
being a warm democrat, selected T. M,, the then leader of 
that party, and Washington B. T., then a rising light of the 
same political sect, to defend him. The evidence was not 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. (35 

jt^ery clear or positive. It seemed that an altercation had 
irisen at the grocery (fashionably called doggery), between 
ji son of the defendant and the schoolmaster, which led to 
:he shooting of the pistol by the younger P. at the aforesaid 
Thomas, as the said Thomas was making his way with equal 
regard to speed of transit and safety of conveyance from that 
locality. As it was Thomas's business to teach the young 
idea to shoot, he had no idea of putting to hazard " the de- 
lightful task" by being shot himself: and by thinking him 
of " what troubles do environ the man that meddles with cold 
iron " on the drawing thereof, resolved himself into a com- 
mittee of safety, and proceeded energetically to the dispatch 
of the appropriate business of the board. But fast as Thom- 
as travelled, a bevy of mischievous buckshot, as full of dev- 
ilment as Thomas's scholars just escaped from school, rushed 
after, and one of them, striking him about two feet above 
the calf of his right leg, made his seat on the scholastic tri- 
pod for a while rather unpleasant to him. In fact, Thomas 
suffered a good deal in that particular region in which he 
had been the cause of much suliering in otlisrs. Thoiiias 
also added to the fun naturally attaching, in the eyes of 
the mercurial and reckless population of the time, to a Yan- 
kee schoolmaster's being shot while running, in so tender a 
point, by clapping his hands behind at the fire, and bellowing 
out that the murderer had blown out his brains! A mistake 
very pardonable in one who had come fresh from a country 
where pistols were not known, and who could not be expect- 
ed, under these distressing circumstances, to estimate, with 
much precision, the effect of a gun-shot wound. 



QQ SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

Young Foreman, immediately after the pistol went o 
follov/ed its example. And not being of a curious turn, d 
not come back to see what the sheriff had done with a doc 
ment he had for him, though assured that it related to irii 
portant business. The proof against him — as it usually wj 
against any one who couldn't be hurt by it — v/as clear enoug 
but it was not so clear against his father. The Major wf 
there, had participated in the quarrel, and about the time ( 
the firing, a voice the witness took — but wasn't certain — It 
be the Major's, was heard to cry out, ''Shoot! Shoot!" anui 
shortly after the firing, the Major was heard to halloo tt 
Peabody, " Run — Run, you d — d rascal — run! " This waa 
about the strength of the testimony. The Major was a gen 
tleman of about fifty-five — of ruddy complexion, which hli 
had got out of a jug he kept under his bed of cold nights 
without acknowledging his obligations for the loan — aboui^ 
five feet eight inches high and nearly that much broad. Na;^ 
ture or accident had shortened one leg, so that he limpe*^ 
when he walked. His eyes stood out and were streaked lik{ 
a boy's white alley — and he wore a ruffled shirt; the samet 
perhaps, which he had worn on training days in Georgia, bui 
which did not match very well with a yellow linsey vest 
and a pair of copperas-colored jeans pantaloons he hac 
squeezed in the form of a crescent over his protuberani 
paunch: on the whole, he was a pretty good live parody or 
an enormous goggle-eyed sun perch. 

He had come from Georgia, where he had been a majoit 
in the militia, if that is not tautology; for I believe that 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 67 

ivery man that ever comes from Georgia is a major, — repay- 
ng the honor of the commission or title by undeviating fidel- 
ty to the democratic ticket. He would almost as soon been 
onvicted as to have been successfully defended by a whig 
awyer. 

Old F. held up his head for some time — indeed, seemed 
enjoy the mirth that was going on during the testimony, 
'/■ery much. But when J. T. began to pour broadside after 
)roadside into him, and bring up fact after fact and appeal 
ifter appeal, and the court-house grew still and solemn, the 
)ld fellow could stand it no longer. Like the Kentucky 
nilitia at New Orleans, he ingloriously fled, sneaking out 
vhen no one was looking at him. The sheriff, however, 
?oon missed him, and seeing him crossing the bridge and 
iioving towards the swamp, raised a posse and followed after. 
The trial in the mean time proceeded — as did" the Major. 

I said he was defended in part by W. B. T. 

You didn't know Wash? Well, you missed a good 
leal. He would have impressed you. He was about 
hirty years old at the time I am writing of. He came to 
!*^. from East Tennessee, among whose romantic mountains 
le had " beat the drum ecclesiastic " as a Methodist preacher. 
He had, however, doffed the cassock, or rather, the shad- 
belly, for the gown. He had fallen from grace — not a high 
fall— and having warred against the devil for a time— a quar- 
ter or more — Dalgetty-like, he got him a law license, and 
took arms on the other side. His mind was not cramped, 
Qor his originali y fettered by techinal rules or other learn- 



63 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

* 

ing. His voice, had not affectation injured the effect of i1 

1 
was remarkably fine, full, musical and sonorous, and of an; 

degree of compass and strength. He was as fluent of wordl 

as a Frenchman. He was never known to falter for a word 

and if he ever paused for an idea, he paused in vain. H<i 

practised on his voice as on an organ, and had as many upn 

and downs, high keys and low, as many gyrations and wind 

ings as an opera singer or a stage horn. H. G — y used tc 

say of him that he just shined his eyes, threw up his armss 

twirled his tongue, opened his mouth, and left the consequenii 

ces to heaven. He practised on the injunction to the apos' 

ties, and took no thought what he should say, but spoke 

without labor — mental or physical. To add to the charmE; 

of his delivery, he wore a poppaw smile, a sort of sickly 

sweet expression on his countenance, that worked like Doj 

ver's powders on the spectator. 

After J. T. had concluded his opening speech. Washing-; 

ton rose to open for the defence. The speech was a remarkv 

able specimen of forensic eloquence. It had all the charms^ 

of Counsellor Phillips' most ornate efforts, lacking only thee| 

ideas. Great was the sensation when Wash, turned upom 

the prosecutor. " Gentlemen of the jury," said the orator, 

" this prosecutor is one of the vilest ingrates that ever 

lived since the time of Judas Iscariot; for, gentlemen, did 

you not hear from the v/itnesses, that when this prosecutor 

was in the very extremity of his peril, my client, moved by 

the tenderest emotions of pity and compassion, shouted out, 

Run! run! you d — d rascal — run!' It is true (lowering 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. g9 

lis voice and smiling), gentlemen, he said 'you d — d rascal,' 
)ut the honorable court will instruct you that that was mere- 
y descriptio personw." The effect was prodigious. 

After Washington had made an end, old Tallabola rose 
lowly, as if oppressed by the weight of his subject. Now 
r. never made a jury speech without telling an anecdote. 
iVhatever else was omitted the anecdote had to come. It is 
rue, the point and application were both sometimes hard to 
see; and it is also true that as T's stock was by no means 
jxtehsive, he had to make up in repetition what he lacked 
n variety. He had, however, one stand-by which never 
ailed him. He might be said to have chartered it. He 
lad told it until it had got to be a necessity of speech. 
Che anecdote was a relation of a Georgia major's prowess 
n war. It ran thus: The major was very brave when the 
memy was at a distance, and exhorted his men to fight to 
;he death; — the enemy came nearer — the major told his sol- 
iiers to fight bravely, but to be prudent; — the foe came in 
ight, theirs arms gleaming in the sunshine— and the major 
old the men that, if they could not do better, they ought to 
-etreat; and added he, "being a little lame, I believe / 
vill leave now." And so, said T., it was with the prosecutor, 
^t length after a long speech, T. concluded. J. T. rose to 
:'eply. He said, before proceeding to the argument, he 
;vould pay his respects to his old acquaintance, the anecdote 
Df the Georgia major. He had known it a long while, in- 
ieed almost as long as he had known his friend T. It had 
ifforded him amusement for many courts — how many he 



70 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

couldn't now stop to count. Knowing the major to have be 
drafted into Mr. T's speeches for many a campaign, he h 
hoped the war-worn veteran had been discharged from du 
and pensioned off, in consideration of long and hard usaj 
or at least, that he was resting on furlough; but it seems 
was still in active service. His friend had not been ve 
happy in his anecdote on other occasions, but, he must sa 
on this occasion he was most felicitously unhappy; for t 
DEFENDANT was a major — he was a Georgia major too; uii 
fortunately, he was a little lame also; and, to complete tt 
parallel, " in the heat of this action, on looking around," sa 
J. T., "I find he has left!" T, jumped up — "No evideni' 
of that, Mr. H. Confine yourself to the record, if yci 
please." " Well," said J. T., " gentlemen, my friend is 
little restive. You may look around, and judge for you; 
selves." Tallabola never told that anecdote any more;- 
he had to get another. 

The jury having been sufficiently confused as to the lai 
by about twenty abstract propositions bearing various sigm 
fications, and some of them having no relation to the factt 
(the legislature, in its excessive veneration for the sanctity < 
jury trial, having prohibited the judges from charging in an ii 
telligible way,) retired from the bar to consider of their ve 
diet. In a few moments they returned into court. But when 
was the prisoner! Like Lara, he wouldn't come. The coui 
refused to receive the verdict in the absence of the defendan 
Finally, after waiting a long while, the Major was brough 
an ofiicer holding on to each arm, and a crowd following a 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. IJ*]^ 

'^'his heels. (The Major had been caught in the swamp.) 
'when he came in, he thought he was a gone sucker. The 
''court directed the clerk to call over the jury: they were 
'^called, and severally answered to their names. The perspl- 
' ration rolled from the Major's face — his eyes stuck out as 
^if he had been choked. At the end of the call, the judge 
^ asked "Are you agreed on your verdict?" The foreman 
■'answered J' Yes,," and handed to the clerk the indictment 
'on which the verdict was endorsed. The clerk read it slow- 
'ly. "We — the jury — find the — de — fen — dant (the Major 
held his breath) not guilty," One moment more and he 
had fainted. He breathed easy, then uttering a sort of re- 
lieving groan shortly after, he came to Tallabola — " Tal," 
said he, blubbering and wiping his nose on his cuff, " I'm 
going to quit the dimmycratic party and jine the whigs." 
"Why, Ma)jor," said Tal, "what do you mean? you're one 
of our chief spokes at your box. Don't you believe in our 
doctrines?" " Yes," said the Major, "I do; but after my 
disgraceful run I'm not fit to be a dimmycrat any longer — 
I'd disgrace the party — and am no better than a dratted, 
blue-bellied, federal whig!" 



^2 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

t 



1 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE YIKGINI- 
A'NS. YIRGINIAISrS IN A NEW COUNTRY. 
THE RISE, DECLINE, AND EALL OF THE 
RAG EMPIRE. 

The disposition to be proud and vain of one's country, and 
to boast of it, is a natural feeling, indulged or not in res- 
pect to the pride, vanity, and boasting, according to the 
character of the native: but, with a Virginian, it is a pas- 
sion. It inheres in him even as the flavor of a York river 
oyster in that bivalve, and no distance of deportation, and 
no trimmings of a gracious prosperity, and no pickling in 
the sharp acids of adversity, can destroy it. It is a part of 
the Virginia character — ^just as the flavor is a distinctive 
part of the oyster — " which cannot, save by annihilating, die." 
It is no use talking about it — the thing may be right, or 
wrong: — like Falstaff's victims at Gadshill, it is past praying 
for: it is a sort of cocoa grass that has got into the soil, 
and has so matted over it, and so filred through it, as to 
have become a part of it; at least, there is no telling which 
is the grass and which is the soil; and certainly it is useless 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 73 

labor to try to root it out. You may destroy the soil, but 
you can't root out the grass. 

Patriotism with a Virginian is a noun personal. It is 
the Virginian himself and something over. He loves Vir- 
ginia per se and propter se: he loves her for herself and 
for himself — because she is Virginia and — every thing else 
beside. He loves to talk about her: out of the abundance 
of the heart the mouth speaketh. It makes no odds where 
he goes, he carries Virginia with him; not in the entirety 
always — buF the little spot he came from is Virginia — as 
Swedenborg says the smallest part of the brain is an abridg- 
ment of all of it. "Gwlum non animuiJi mutant qui 
trans mare currunt," was made for a Virginian. He 
never gets acclimated elsewhere; he never loses citizenship 
to the old Home. The right of expatriation is a pure abstrac- 
tion to him. He may breathe in Alabama, but he lives in 
Virginia. His treasure is there, and his heart also. If he 
looks at the Delta of the Mississippi, it reminds him of 
James River "low grounds;" if he sees the vast prairies of 
Texas, it is a memorial of the meadows of the Valley. 
Richmond is the centre of attraction, the depot of all that 
is grand, great, good and glorious. '' It is the Kentucky ot 
a place," which the preacher described Heaven to be to the 
Kentucky congregation. 

Those who came many years ago from the borough towns, 
especially from the vicinity of Williamsburg, exceed, in at- 
tachment to their birthplace, if possible, the emigres from 
the metropolis. It is refreshing in these costermonger times. 



1 



74 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

he 



to hear them speak of it: — they remember it when the ol 
burg was the seat of fashion, taste, refinement, hospitalit: 
wealth, wit, and all social graces; when genius threw itj 
spell over the public assemblages and illumined the halls of 
justice, and when beauty brightened the social hour with he 
unmatched and matchless brillancy. 

Then the spirited and gifted youths of the College of olc 
William and Mary, some of them just giving out the flrsi; 
scintillations of the genius that afterwards shone refulgent 
in the forum and the senate, added to the attractions of w 
society gay, cultivated and refined beyond example — even inn 
the Old Dominion. A hallowed charm seems to rest upon the, 
venerable city, clothing its very dilapidation in a drape- 
ry of romance and of serene and classic interest: as if all! 
the sweet and softened splendor which invests the " Midsum-J 
mer Night's Dream " were poured in a flood of mellow and i 
poetic radiance over the now quiet and half " deserted vil- 
lage." There is something in the shadow from the old col- 
liege walls, cast by the moon upon the' grass and sleeping on 
the sward, that throws a like shadow soft, sad and melancho- 
ly upon the heart of the returning pilgrim who saunters out 
to view again, by moonlight, his old Alma Mater — the nurs- 
ing mother of such a list and such a line of statesmen and 
heroes. 

There is nothing presumptuously froward in this Virgin- 
ianism. The Virginian does not make broad his phylacteries 
and crow over the poor Carolinian and Tennesseeian. He 
does not reproach him with his misfortune of birthplace. 



The" 
lincti 
then 

m 

[am 
lorl 

lip 

¥ 
m 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 75 

No, he thinks the aflaiction is enough without the triumph. 

itr 
The franchise of having been born in Virginia, and the pre- 
rogative founded thereon, are too patent of honor and dis- 
tinction to be arrogantly pretended. The bare mention is 
enough. He finds occasion to let the fact be known, and 
then the fact is fully able to protect and take care of itself. 
Like a ducal title, there is no need of saying more than to 
name it: modesty then is a becoming and expected virtue; 
forbearance to boast is true dignity. 

The Virginian is a magnanimous man. He never throws 
up to a Yankee the fact of his birthplace. He feels on the 
subject as a man of delicacy feels in alluding to a rope in the 
presence of a person, one of whose brothers " stood upon 
nothing and kicked at the U. S.," or to a female indiscretion, 
where there had been scandal concerning the family. So far 
do they carry this refinement, that I have known one of my 
countrymen, on occasion of a Bostonian owning where he was 
born, generously protest that he had never heard of it before. 
As if honest confession half obliterated the shame of the fact. 
Yet he does not lack the grace to acknowledge worth or mer- 
it in another, wherever the native place of that other: for it 
is a common thing to hear them say of a neighbor, " he is a 
clever fellow, though he did come from New Jersey or even 
Connecticut." 

In politics the Virginian is learned much beyond what is 
written — for they have heard a great deal of speaking on that 
prolific subject, especially by one or two Randolphs and any 
number of Barbours. They read the same papers here they 



76 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

read in Virginia — the Richmond Enquirer and the Rich- 
mond Whig. The democrat stoutly asseverates a fact, and 
gives the Enquirer as his authority with an air that means to) 
say, that settles it: while the whig quoted Hampden Pleas- 
ants with the same confidence. But the faculty of personal- 
izing every thing which the exceeding social turn of a Vir- 
ginian gives him, rarely allowed a reference to the paper, ec 
nomine; but made him refer to the editor: as "Ritchie 
said " so and so, or " Hampden Pleasants said " this or that. 
When two of opposite politics got together, it was amusing, 
if you had nothing else to do that day, to hear the discussion. 
I never knew a debate that did not start a6 urhe condita. 
They not only went back to first principles, but also to first 
times; nor did I ever hear a discussion in which old John 
Adams and Thomas Jefferson did not figure — as if an inter- 
minable dispute had been going on for so many generations 
between those disputatious personages; as if the quarrel had 
begun before time, but was not to end with it. But the 
strangest part of it to me was, that the dispute seemed to be 
going on without poor Adams having any defence or cham- 
pion; and never waxed hotter than when both parties agreed 
in denouncing the man of Braintree as the worst of public 
sinners and the vilest of political heretics. They both agreed 
on one thing, and that was to refer the matter to the Reso- 
lutions of 1798-99; which said Resolutions, like Goldsmith's 
" Good Natured Man," arbitrating between Mr. and Mrs. 
Croaker, seemed so impartial that they agreed with both par- 
ties on every occasion. 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VHIGINIANS. "77 

Nor do I recollect of hearing any question debated that 
did not resolve itself into a question of constitution — strict 
construction, &c., — the constitution being a thing of that cu- 
rious virtue that its chief excellency consisted in not allow- 
ing the government to do any thing; or in being a regular 
prize fighter that knocked all laws and legislators into a 
cocked hat, except those of the objector's party. 

Frequent reference was reciprocally made to " gorgons, 
hydras, and chimeras dire," to black cockades, blue lights, 
Essex juntos, the Reign of Terror, and some other mystic 
entities — but who or v/hat these monsters were, I never could 
distinctly learn; and was surprised, on looking into the his- 
tory of the country, to find that, by some strange oversight, 
no allusion was made to them. 

Great is the Virginian's reverence of great men, that is 
to say, of great Virginians. This reverence is not Unitarian. 
He is a Polytheist. He believes in a multitude of Virginia 
Gods. As the Romans of every province and village had 
their tutelary or other divinities, besides having divers na- 
tional gods, so the Virginian of every country has his great 
man, the like of whom cannot be found in the new country 
he has exiled himself to. This sentiment of veneration for 
talent, especially for speaking talent, — this amiable propen- 
sity to lionize men, is not peculiar to any class of Virginians 
among us: it abides in all. I was amused to hear "old Cul- 
peper," as we call him (by nickname derived from the county 
he came from), declaiming in favor of the Union. "What, 
gentlemen," said the old man, with a sonorous swell—" what. 



p 



78 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



• 



burst up this glorious Union! and who, if this Union is torn 
up, could write another? Nobody except Henry Clay and 
J — S. B — ; of Culpeper — and may be they wouldn't — and 
what then would you do for another?" 

The greatest compliment a Virginian can ever pay to a 
speaker, is to say that he reminds him of a Col. Broadhorn 
or a Captain Smith, who represented some royal-named coun- 
ty some forty years or less in the Virginia House of Dele- 
gates; and of whom, the auditor, of course, has heard, as he 
made several speeches in the capitol at Richmond. But 
the force of the compliment is somewhat broken, by a long 
narrative, in which the personal reminiscences of the speaker 
go back to sundry sketches of the Virginia statesman's efforts, 
and recapitulations of his sayings, interpersed par paren- 
these, with many valuable notes illustrative of his pedigree 
and performances; the whole of which, given with great his- 
torical fidelity of detail, leaves nothing to be wished for ex- 
cept the point, or rather, two points, the gist and the period. 

It is not to be denied that Virginia is the land of orators, 
heroes and statesmen; and that, directly or indirectly, she 
has exerted an influence upon the national councils nearly as 
great as all the rest of the States combined. It is wonderful 
that a State of its size and population should have turned out 
such an unprecedented quantum of talent, and of talent as 
various in kind as prodigious in amount. She has reason to 
be proud; and the other States so largely in her debt (for, 
from Cape May to Puget's Sound she has colonized the other 
States and the territories with her surplus talent,) ought to 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 79 

allow her the harmless privilege of a little bragging. In the 
showy talent of oratory has she especially shone. To ac- 
complish her in this art the State has been turned into a 
debating society, and while she has been talking for the 
benefit of the nation, as she thought, the other, and, by na- 
ture, less favored States, have been doing for their own. 
Consequently, what she has gained in reputation, she has 
lost in wealth and material aids. Certainly the Virginia 
character has been less distinguished for its practical than 
its ornamental traits, and for its business qualities than for 
its speculative temper. Cui bono and utilitarianism, at least 
until latterly, were not favorite or congenial inquiries and 
subjects of attention to the Virginia politician. What the 
Virginian was upon his native soil, that he was abroad; in- 
deed, it may be said that the amor patrice, strengthened by 
absence, made him more of a conservative abroad than he 
would have been if he had staid at home; for most of them 
here — would not, had they been consulted, have changed 
either of the old constitutions. 

It is far, however, from my purpose to treat of such 
themes. I only glance at them to show their influence on 
the character as it was developed on a new theatre. 

Eminently social and hospitable, kind, humane and gen- 
erous is a Virginian, at home or abroad. They are so by 
nature and habit. These qualities and their exercise devel- 
ope and strengthen other virtues. By reason of these social 
traits, they necessarily become well mannered, honorable, 
spirited, and careful of reputation, desirous of pleasing, and 



80 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

skilled in the accomplisliments which please. Their in- 
sular position and sparse population, mostly rural, and easy 
but not affluent fortunes kept them from the artificial refine- 
ments and the strong temptations which corrupt so much of 
the society of the old world and some portions of the new. 
There was no character more attractive than that of a young 
Virginian, fifteen years ago, of intelligence, of good family, 
education and breeding. 

It was of the instinct of a Virginian to seek society: he 
belongs to the gregarious, not to the solitary division of 
animals; and society can only be kept up by grub and gab — 
something to eat, and, if not something to talk about, talk. 
Accordingly they came accomplished already in the knowl- 
edge and the talent for these important duties. 

A Virginian could always get up a good dinner. He 
could also do his share — a full hand's work — in disposing 
of one after it was got up. The qualifications for hostman- 
ship were signal — the old Udaller himself, assisted by Claud 
Halrco, could not do up the thing in better style, or with a 
heartier relish, or a more cordial hospitality. In petite 
manners — the little attentions of the table, the filling up of 1 
the chinks of the conversation with small fugitive observa- 
tions, the supplying the hooks and eyes that kept the discourse 
together, the genial good humor, which, like that of the 
family of the good Vicar, made up in laughter what was 
wanting in wit — in these, and in the science of getting up 
and in getting through a picnic or chowder party, or fish fry, 
the Virginian, like Eclipse, was first, and there was no sec- 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 81 

ond. Great was he too at mixing an apple toddy, or mint 
julep, where ice could be got for love or money; and not de- 
ficient, by any means, when it came to his turn to do honor to 
his own fabrics. It was in this department, that he not 
only shone but outshone, not merely all others but himself. 
Here he was at home indeed. His elocution, his matter, 
his learning, his education, were of the first order. He could 
discourse of every thing around him with an accuracy and a 
fulness which would have put Coleridge's or Mrs, Ellis's ta- 
ble talk to the blush. Every dish was a text, horticulture, 
hunting, poultry, fishing — (Isaac Walton or Daniel Webster 
would have been charmed and instructed to hear him dis- 
course piscatory-wise,) — a slight divergence in favor of fox- 
chasing and a detour towards a horse-race now and then, and 
continual parentheses of recommendation of particular dishes 
or glasses — Oh! I tell you if ever there was an interesting 
man it was he. Others might be agreeable, but he was fasci- 
nating, irresistible, not-to-be-done-without. 

In the fullness of time the new era had set in — the era 
of the second great experiment of independence: the experi- 
ment, namely, of credit without capital, and enterprise with- 
out honesty. The Age of Brass had succeeded the Arcadi- 
an period when men got rich by saving a part of their earn- 
ings, and lived at their own cost and in ignorance of the new 
plan of making fortunes on the profits of what they owed. 
A new theory, not found in the works on political economy, 
was broached. It was found out that the prejudice in favor 
of the metals (brass excluded) was an absurd superstition; 



82 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

and that, in reality, any thing else, which the parties inter- 
ested in giving it currency chose, might serve as a represen- 
tative of value and medium for exchange of property; and 
as gold and silver had served for a great number of years as 
representatives, the republican doctrine of rotation in office 
required they should give way. Accordingly it was decided 
that Rags, a very familiar character, and very popular and 
easy of access, should take their place. Rags belonged to 
the school of progress. He was representative of the then 
Young America. His administration was not tame. It was 
very spirited. It was based on the Bonapartist idea of 
keeping the imagination of the people excited. The leading 
fiscal idea of his system was to democratize capital, and to 
make, for all purposes of trade, credit and enjoyment of 
wealth, the man that had no money a little richer, if any thing, 
than the man that had a million. The principle of success 
and basis of operation, though inexplicable in the hurry of the 
time, is plain enough now: it was faith. Let the public be- 
lieve that a smutted rag is money, it is money: in other 
words, it was a sort of financial biology, which made, at 
night, the thing conjured for, the thing that was seen, so far 
as the patient was concerned, while the fit was on him — ex- 
cept that now a man does not do his trading when under the 
mesmeric influence: in the flush times he did. 

This country was just settling up. Marvellous accounts 
had gone forth of the fertility of its virgin lands; and the 
productions of the soil were commanding a price remunera- 
ting to slave labor as it had never been remunerated before 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 33 

Emigrants came flocking in from all quarters of the Union, 
especially from the slaveholding States. The new country- 
seemed to be a reservoir, and every road leading to it a va- 
grant stream of enterprise and adventure. Money, or what 
passed for money, was the only cheap thing to be had. Ev- 
ery cross-road and every avocation presented an opening, — 
through which a fortune was seen by the adventurer in near 
perspective. Credit was a thing of course. To refuse it — 
if the thing was ever done — were an insult for which a bowie- 
knife were not a too summary or exemplary a means of re- 
dress. The State banks were issuing their bills by the 
sheet, like a patent steam printing-press its issues; and no 
other showing was asked of the applicant for the loan than 
an authentication of his great distress for money. Finance, 
even in its most exclusive quarter, had thus already got, in 
this wonderful revolution, to work upon the principles of 
the charity hospital. If an overseer grew tired of supervis- 
ing a plantation and felt a call to the mercantile life, even 
if he omitted the compendious method of buying out a mer- 
chant wholesale, stock, house and good will, and laying down, 
at once, his bull-whip for the yard-stick — all he had to do 
was to go on to New- York, and present himself in Pearl- 
street with a letter avouching his citizenship, and a clean 
shirt, and he was regularly given a through ticket to speedy 
bankruptcy. 

Under this stimulating process prices rose like smoke. 
Lots in obscure villages were held at city prices; lands, 
bought at the minimum cost of government, were sold at 



34 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

from thirty to forty dollars per acre, and considered dirt 
cheap at that. In short, the country had got to be a full 
ante-type of California, in all except the gold. Society was 
wholly unorganized: there was no restraining public opinion: 
the law was well-nigh powerless — and religion scarcely was 
heard of except as furnishing the oaths and technics of pro- 
fanity. The world saw a fair experiment of what it would 
have been, if the fiat had never been pronounced which de- 
creed subsistence as the price of labor. 

Money, got without work, by those unaccustomed to it, 
turned the heads of its possessors, and they spent it with a 
recklessness like that with which they gained it. The pur ' 
suits of industry neglected, riot and coarse debauchery filled 
up the vacant hours. " Where the carcass is, there will the 
eagles be gathered together;" and the eagles that flocked to 
the Southwest, were of the same sort as the Nack eagles the 
Duke of Saxe-Weimar saw on his celebrated journey to the 
Natural Bridge. " The cankers of a long peace and a calm 
world" — there were no Mexican wars and filibuster expedi- 
tions in those days — gathered in the villages and cities by 
scores. 

Even the little boys caught the taint of the general in- 
fection of morals; and I knew one of them — Jim Ellett by 
name — to give a man ten dollars to hold him up to bet at 
the table of a faro-bank. James was a fast youth; and I 
sincerely hope he may not fulfil his early promise, and some 
day be assisted up still higher. 

The groceries — vulgice — doggeries, were in full blast in 



H 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 85 

those days, no village having less than a half-dozen all busy 
all the time: gaming and horse-racing were polite and well 
patronized amusements. I knew a Judge to adjourn two 
courts (or court twice) to attend a horse-race, at which he 
officiated judicially and ministerially, and with more appro- 
priateness than in the judicial chair. Occasionally the scene 
was diversified hy a murder or two, which though perpetra- 
ted from behind a corner, or behind the back of the deceas- 
ed, whenever the accused cJiose to stand his trial, was always 
found to have been committed in self-defence, securing the 
homicide an honorable acquittal at the hands of his peers. 

The old rules of business and the calculations of pru- 
dence were alike disregarded, and profligacy, in all the de- 
partments of the crimen falso, held riotous carnival. Lar- 
ceny grew not only respectable, but genteel, and ruffled it in 
all the pomp of purple and fine linen. Swindling was raised 
to the dignity of the fine arts. Felony came forth from its 
covert, put on more seemly habiliments, and took its seat 
with unabashed front in the upper places of the synagogue. 
Before the first circles of the patrons of this brilliant and 
dashing villainy, Blunt Honesty felt as abashed as poor Hal- 
bert Grlendinning by the courtly refinement and supercilious 
airs of Sir Piercie Shafton. 

■Public office represented, by its incumbents, the state of 
public morals with some approach to accuracy. Out of six- 
ty-six receivers of public money in the new States, sixty-two 
were discovered to be defaulters; and the agent, sent to 
look into the affairs of a peccant office-holder in the 



86 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

South-West, reported him minus some tens of thousands, but 
advised the government to retain him, for a reason one of 
^sop's fables illustrates: the agent ingeniously surmising 
that the appointee succeeding would do his stealing without 
any regard to the proficiency already made by his predeces- 
sor; while the present incumbent would probably consider, 
in mercy to the treasury, that he had done something of the 
pious duty of providing for his household. 

There was no petit larceny: there was all the difference 
between stealing by the small and the " operations " manip- 
ulated, that there is between a single assassination and an 
hundred thousand men killed in an opium war. The placeman 
robbed with the gorgeous magnificence of a Governor-General 
of Bengal. 

The man of straw, not worth the buttons on his shirt, 
with a sublime audacity, bought lands and negroes, and pro- 
vided times and terms of payment which a Wall-street capi- 
talist would have to re-cast his arrangements to meet. 

Oh, Paul Clifford and Augustus Tomlinson, philosophers 
of the road, practical and theoretical! if ye had lived to 
see those times, how great an improvement on your ruder 
scheme of distribution would these gentle arts have seemed; 
arts whereby, without risk, or loss of character, or the vul- 
gar barbarism of personal violence, the same beneficial results 
flowed with no greater injury to the superstitions of moral 
education! 

With the change of times and the imagination of wealth 
easily acquired came a change in the thoughts and habits of 
the people. " Old times were changed — old manners gone." 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 37 

V'isions of affluence, such as crowded Dr. Samuel Johnson's 
nind, when advertising a sale of Thrale's Brewery, and casi- 
ng a soft sheep's eye towards Thrale's widow, thronged upon 
;he popular fancy. Avarice and hope joined partnership. 
[t was strange how the reptile arts of humanity, as at a faro- 
:al)le, warmed into life beneath their heat. The cacoethes 
iccrescendi became epidemic. It seized upon the universal 
community. The pulpits even were not safe from its insid- 
ious invasion. What men anxiously desire they willingly 
t>elieve; and all believed a good time was coming — nay, had 
3ome. 

" Commerce was king " — and Rags, Tag and Bobtail 
bis cabinet council. Rags was treasurer. Banks, chartered 
on a specie basis, did a very flourishing business on the promis- 
sory notes of the individual stockholders ingeniously substi- 
tuted in lieu of cash. They issued ten for one, the one being 
fictitious. They generously loaned all the directors could 
not use themselves, and were not choice whether Bardolph 
was the endorser for Falstaff, or Falstaff borrowed on his 
own proper credit, or the funds advanced him by Shallow. 
The stampede towards the golden temple became general: 
the delusion prevailed far and wide that this thing was not 
a burlesque on commerce and finance. Even the directors 
of the banks began to have their doubts whether the intend- 
ed swindle was not a failure. Like Lord Clive, when re- 
proached for extortion to the extent of some millions in 
Bengal, they exclaimed, after the bubble burst, "When they 
thought of what they had got, and what they might have got, 
they were astounded at their own moderation." 



88 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

The old capitalists for a while stood out. With the Torjlt'- 
conservatism of cash in hand, worked for, they couldn't re|5t 
concile their old notions to the new regime. They looked 
for the thing's ending, and then their time. But the stam- 
pede still kept on. Paper fortunes still multiplied — houses 
and lands changed hands — real estate see-sawed up as morals 
went down on the other end of the plank — men of straw, 
corpulent with bank bills, strutted past them on 'Change. 
They began, too, to think there might be something in this 
new thing. Peeping cautiously, like hedge-hogs out of their 
holes, they saw the steam of wealth and adventurers passing 
by — then, looking carefully around, they inched themselvesf 
half way out — then, sallying forth and snatching up a mor 
sel, ran back, until, at last, grown more bold, they ran ou 
too with their hoarded store, in full chase with the other un 
clean beasts of adventure. They never got back again 
Jonah's gourd withered one night, and next morning th 
vermin that had nestled under its broad shade were left un 
protected, a prey to the swift retribution that came upon 
them. They were left naked, or only clothed themselves 
with cursing (the Specie Circular on the United States Bank) 
as with a garment. To drop the figure: Shylock himself 
couldn't live in those times, so reversed was every thing. 
Shaving paper and loaning money at a usury of fifty per cent, 
was for the first time since the Jews left Jerusalem, a break- 
ing business to the operator. 

The condition of society may be imagined: — vulgarity — 
ignorance — fussy and arrogant pretension — unmitigated row- 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 89 

dyism — bullying insolence, if they did not rule the hour 
seemed to wield unchecked dominion. The workings of 
these choice spirits were patent upon the face of society; 
and the modest, unobtrusive, retiring men of worth and char- 
acter (for there were many, perhaps a large majority of such) 
were almost lost sight of in the hurly-burly of those strange 
and shifting scenes. 

Even in the professions were the same characteristics 
visible. Men dropped down into their places as from the 
clouds. Nobody knew who or what they were, except as 
they claimed or as a surface view of their characters indi- 
cated. Instead of taking to the highway and magnanimously 
calling upon the wayfarer to stand and deliver, or to the 
fashionable larceny of credit without prospect or design of 
paying, some unscrupulous horse-doctor would set up his 
signs as " Physician and Surgeon," and draw his lancet on 
you, or fire at random a box of his pills into your bowels, 
with a vague chance of hitting some disease unknown to him, 
but with a better prospect of killing the patient, whom or 
whose administrator he charged some ten dollars a trial for 
his markmanship. 

A superannuated justice or constable in one of the old 
States was metamorphosed into a lawyer; and though he 
knew not the distinction between a fee tail and a female, 
would undertake to construe, off-hand, a will involving all 
the subtleties of uses and trusts. 

But this state of things could not last for ever: society 
cannot always stand on its head with its heels in the air. 



90 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

The Jupiter Tonans of the White House saw the mo 
ster of a free credit prowling about like a beast of apoc 
lyptic vision, and marked him for his prey. Gathering 8;; 
his bolts in his sinewy grasp, and standing back on his heellf 
and waving his wiry arm, he ilet them all fly, hard and swiil 
upon all the hydra's heads. Then came a crash, as " if to 
ribs of nature broke," and a scattering, like the burstings ( 
a thousand magazines, and a smell of brimstone, as if Par 
demonium had opened a window next to earth for ventilation 
— and all was silent. The beast never stirred in his tracks? 
To get down from the clouds to level ground, the Specii 
Circular v/as issued without warning, and the splendid lie oo 
a false credit burst into fragments. It came in the midst 
the dance and the frolic — as Tam O'Shanter came to diss 
turb the infernal glee of the warlocks, and to disperse th«^ 
rioters. Its effect was like that of a general creditor's bil'.l 
in the chancery court, and a marshalling of all the assets oJ)l 
the trades-people. Gen. Jackson was no fairy; but he dida 
some very pretty fairy work, in converting the bank bills backk 
again into rags and oak-leaves. Men worth a million weree 
insolvent for two millions: promising young cities marched 1 
back again into the wilderness. The ambitious town platt 
was re-annexed to the plantation, like a country girl taken 
home from the city. The frolic was ended, and what head- 
aches, and feverish limbs the next morning! The retreat 
from Moscow was performed over again, and " Devil take the 
hindmost" 'was the tune to which the soldiers of fortune 
marched. The only question was as to the means of escape, 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 91 

ind the nearest and best route to Texas. The sheriff was as 
Dusy as a militia adjutant on review day; and the lawyers 
Nere mere wreckers, earning salvage. Where are ye now my 
ruffling gallants? Where now the braw cloths and watch 
chains and rings and fine horses? Alas! for ye — they are 
limmering among the things that were — the wonder of an 
hour! They live only in memory, as unsubstantial as the 

promissory notes ye gave for them. When it came to be 
I 

tested, the whole matter was found to be hollov/ and falla- 
cious. Like a sum ciphered out through a long column, the 
first figure an error, the whole, and all the parts were wrong, 
throughout the entire calculation. 

Such is a charcoal sketch of the interesting region — now 
inferior to none in resources, and the character of its popula- 
tion — during the flush times; a period constituting an epi- 
sode in the commercial history of the world — the reign of 
humbug, and wholesale insanity, just overthrown in time to 
save the whole country from ruin. But while it lasted, 
many of our countrymen came into the South-West in time 
to get " a benefit." The auri sacra fames is a catching dis- 
ease. Many Virginians had lived too fast for their fortunes, 
and naturally desired to recuperate: many others, with a 
competency, longed for wealth; and others again, with wealth, 
yearned — the common frailty — for still more. Perhaps 
some friend or relative, who had come out, wrote back flat- 
tering accounts of the El Dorado, and fired with dissatisfac- 
tion those who were doing well enough at home, by the report 
of his real or imagined success; for who that ever moved 



92 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



off, was not " doing well " in the new country, himself or 
friends being chroniclers? 

Superior to many of the settlers in elegance of manners 
and general intelligence, it was the weakness of the Virgini- 
an to imagine he was superior too in the essential art of be- 
ing able to hold his hand and make his way in a new coun- 
try, and especially such a country, and at such a time. 
What a mistake that was! The times were out of joint. 
It was hard to say whether it were more dangerous to stand 
stilil or to move. If the emigrant stood still, he was con- 
sumed, by no slow degrees, by expenses: if he moved, ten 
to one he weiit off in a galloping consumption, by a ruinous 
investment. Expenses then — necessary articles about three 
times as high, and extra articles still more extra-priced — 
were a different thing in the new country from what they 
were in the old. In the old country, a jolly Virginian, start- 
ing the business of free living on a capital of a plantation, 
and fifty or sixty negroes, might reasonably calculate, if no 
ill luck befell him, by the aid of a usurer, and the occasional 
sale of a negro or two, to hold out without declared insol- 
vency, until a green old age. His estate melted like an es- 
tate in chancery, under the gradual thaw of expenses; but 
in this fast country, it went by the sheer cost of living — 
some poker losses included — like the fortune of the confec- 
tioner in California, who failed for one hundred thousand dol- 
lars in the six months keeping of a candy-shop. But all the 
habits of his life, his taste, his associations, his education — 
every thing — the trustingness of his disposition — his want 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIEGINIANS. 93 

of business qualifications — his sanguine temper — all that was 
Virginian in him, made him the prey, if not of imposture, 
at least of unfortunate speculations. Where the keenest 
jockey often was bit, what chance had he? About the same 
that the verdant Moses had with the venerable old gentle- 
man, his father's friend, at the fair, when he traded the Vi- 
car's pony for the green spectacles. But how could he be- 
lieve it? How could he believe that that stuttering, gram- 
marless Georgian, who had never heard of the resolutions 
of '98, could beat him in a land trade? " Have no money 
dealings with my father," said the friendly Martha to Lord 
Nigel, " for, idiot though he seems, he will mrike an ass of 
thee." What a pity some monitor, equally wise and equally 
successful with old Trapbois' daughter, had not been at the 
elbow of every Virginian! " Twad frae monie a blunder 
free'd him — an' foolish notion." 

If he made a bad bargain, how could he expect to get 
rid of it? He knew nothing of the elaborate machinery of 
ingenious chicane, — such as feigning bankruptcy — fraudulent 
conveyances — making over to his wife — running property — 
and had never heard of such tricks of trade as sending out 
coffins to the graveyard, with negroes inside, carried off by 
sudden spells of imaginary disease, to be "resurrected," in 
due time, grinning, on the banks of the Brazos. 

The new philosophy, too, had commended itself to his specu- 
lative temper. He readily caught at the idea of a new 
spirit of the age having set in, which rejected the saws of Poor 
Richard as being as much out of date as his almanacs. He 



94 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA,. 

was already, by the great rise of property, compared to hi 
condition under the old-time prices, rich; and what were i 
few thousands of debt, which two or three crops would payl 
off, compared to the value of his estate? (He never thought 
that the value of property might come down, while the debt 
was a fixed fact.) He lived freely, for it was a liberal time, 
and liberal fashions were in vogue, and it was not for a 
Virginian to be behind others in hospitality and liberality 
He required credit and security, and, of course, had to^ 
stand security in return. When the crash came, and no) 
" accommodations " could be had, except in a few instances, , 
and in those on the most ruinous terms, he fell an easy vic- 
tim. They broke by neighborhoods. They usually endorsed 
for each other, and when one fell — like the child's play of 
putting bricks on end at equal distances, and dropping the 
first in the line against the second, which fell against the 
third, and so on to the last — all fell; each got broke as secu- 
rity, and yet few or none were able to pay their own debts! 
So powerless of protection were they in those times, that the 
witty H. G. used to say they reminded him of an oyster, 
both shells torn off, lying on the beach, with the sea-gulls 
screaming over them; the only question being, tvMch should 
"gobble them up." 

There was one consolation — if the Virginian involved 
himself like a fool, he suffered himself to be sold out like a 
gentleman. When his card house of visionary projects came 
tumbling about his ears, the next question was, the one 
Webster plagiarised — "Where am I to go?" Those who 



:: 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 95 

had fathers, uncles, aunts, or other like dernier resorts, in 
Virginia, limped back with feathers moulted and crestfallen, 
to the old stamping ground, carrying the returned Oaliforni- 
an's fortune of ten thousand dollars — six bits in money, and 
the balance in experience. Those who were in the condition 
of the prodigal, (barring the father, the calf — ^the fatted one 
I mean — and the fiddle,) had to turn their accomplishments 
to account; and many of them, having lost all by eating and 
drinking, sought the retributive justice from meat and drink, 
which might, at least, support them in poverty. According- 
ly, they kept tavern, and mad© a barter of hospitality, a busi- 
ness, the only disagreeable part of which was receiving the 
money, and the only one I know of for which a man can eat 
and drink himself into qualification. And while I confess I 
never knew a Virginian, out of the State, to keep a bad 
tavern, I never knew one to draw a solvent breath from the 
time he opened house, until death or the sheriff closed it. 

Others again got to be, not exactly overseers, but some 
nameless thing, the duties of which were nearly analogous, 
for some more fortunate Virginian, who had escaped the 
wreck, and who had got his former boon companion to live 
with him on board, or other wages, in some such relation 
that the friend was not often found at table at the dinings 
given to the neighbors, and had got to be called Mr. Flour- 
noy instead of Bob, and slept in an out-house in the yard, 
and only read the Enquire?- of nights and Sundays. 

Some of the younger scions that had been transplanted 
early, and stripped of their foliage at a tender age, had been 



96 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

turned into birches for the corrective discipline of youth. 
Yes; many, who had received academical or collegiate edu- 
cations, disregarding the allurements of the highway — turn- 
ing from the gala-day exercise of ditching — scorning the 
effeminate relaxation of splitting rails — heroically led the 
Forlorn Hope of the battle of life, the corps of pedagogues 
of country schools — academies, I beg pardon for not saying; 
for, under the Virginia economy, every cross-road log-cabin, 
where boys were flogged from B-a-k-e-r to Constantinople, 
grew into the dignity of a sort of runt college; and the 
teacher vainly endeavored to hide the meanness of the call- 
ing beneath the sonorous sotriquet of Professor. "Were 
there no wars?" Had all the oysters been opened? Where 
was the regular army? Could not interest procure service 
as a deck-hand on a steamboat? Did no stage-driver, with a 
contract for running at night, through the prairies in mid- 
winter, want help, at board wages, and sweet lying in the 
loft, when off duty, thrown in? What right had the Dutch 
Jews to monopolize all the peddling? " To such vile uses 
may we come at last, Horatio." The subject grows melan- 
choly. I had a friend on whom this catastrophe descended. 
Tom Edmundson was a buck of the first head — gay, witty, 
dashing, vain, proud, handsome and volatile, and, withal, a 
dandy and lady's man to the last intent in particular. He 
had graduated at the University, and had just settled with 
his guardian, and received his patrimony of ten thousand 
dollars in money. Being a young s;entleman of enterprise, 
he sought the alluring fields of South-Western adventure. 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 97 

and found them in this State. Before he well knew the 
condition of his exchequer, he had made a permanent in- 
vestment of one-half of his fortune in cigars, Champagne, 
trinkets, buggies, horses, and current expenses, including 
some small losses at poker, which game he patronized merely 
for amusement; and found that it diverted him a good deal, 
but diverted his cash much more. He invested the balance, 
on private information kindly given him, in " Choctaw 
Floats;'' a most lucrative investment it would have turned 
out, but for the facts: 1. That the Indians never had any 
title; 2. The white men who kindly interposed to act as 
guardians for the Indians did not have the Indian title; and 
odly, the land, left subject to entry, if the " Floats '* had 
been good, was not worth entering. " These imperfections 
off its head," I know of no fancy stock I would prefer to a 
" Choctaw Float." " Brief, brave and glorious " was " Tom's 
young career." When Thomas found, as he did shortly, 
that he had bought five thousand dollar's worth of moonshine, 
and had no title to it, he honestly informed his landlord of 
the state of his " fiscality," and that worthy kindly consented 
to take a new buggy, at half price, in payment of the old 
balance. The horse, a nick-tailed trotter, Tom had raffled 
off, but omitting to require cash, the process of collection 
resulted in his getting the price of one chance — the winner 
of the horse magnanimously paying his subscription. The 
rest either had gambling offsets, or else were not prepared 
just at any one particular, given moment, to pay up, though 
always ready, generally and in a general way. 



98 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSJI TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

Unlike his namesake, Tom and his landlady were not — 
for a sufficient reason — very gracious; and so, the only 
common bond, Tom's money being gone, Tom received 
" notice to quit " in regular form. 

In the hurly-burly of the times, I had lost sight of Tom 
for a considerable period. One day, as I was travelling 
over the hills in Greene, by a cross-road, leading me near a 
country mill, I stopped to get water at a spring at the bot- 
tom of a hill. Clambering up the hill, after remounting, 
the summit of it brought me to a view, on the other side, 
through the bushes, of a log country school-house, the door 
being wide open, and who did I see but Tom Edmundson, 
dressed as fine as ever, sitting back in an arm-chair, one 
thumb in his waistcoat armhole, the other hand brandishing 
a long switch, or rather pole. As I approached a little 
nearer, I heard him speak out: " Sir — Thomas Jefferson, 
of Virginia, was the author of the Declaration of Independ- 
ence — mind that. I thought everybody knew that — even the 
Georgians." Just then he saw me coming through the bushes 
and entering the path that led by the door. Suddenly he 
broke from the chair of state, and the door was slammed to, 
and I heard some one of the boys, as I passed the door, say 
— " Tell him he can't come in — the master's sick." " This is 
the last I ever saw of Tom. I understand he afterwards 
moved to Louisiana, where he married a rich French widow, 
having first, however, to fight a duel with one of her sons, 
whose opposition couldn't be appeased, until some such 
expiatory sacrifice to the manes of his worthy father was 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 99 

attempted; which failing, he made rather a lame apology 
for his zealous indiscretion — the poor fellow could make no 
other — for Tom had unfortunately fixed him for visiting his 
mother on crutches the balance of his life. 

One thing I will say for the Virginians — I never knew 
one of them, under any pressure, extemporize a profession. 
The sentiment of reverence for the mysteries of medicine 
and law was too large for a deliberate quackery; as to the 
pulpit, a man might as well do his starving without the 
hypocrisy. 

But others were not so nice. I have known them to rush, 
when the wolf was after them, from the counting-house or the 
plantation, into a doctor's shop or a law office, as if those 
places were the sanctuaries from the avenger; some pretend- 
ing to be doctors that did not know a liver from a gizzard, 
administering medicine by the guess, without knowing enough 
of pharmacy to tell whether the stuff exhibited in the big- 
bellied blue, red and green bottles at the show-v/indows of 
the apothecaries' shop, was given by the drop or the half- 
pint. 

Divers others left, but what became of them, I never 
knew any more than they know what becomes of the sora 
after frost. 

Many were the instances of suffering; of pitiable mis- 
fortune, involving and crushing whole families; of pride 
abased; of honorable sensibilities wounded; of the pro- 
vision for old age destroyed; of hopes of manhood over- 
cast; of independence dissipated, and the poor victim with 



;|^00 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

out help, or hope, or sympathy, forced to petty shifts for a 
bare subsistence, and a ground-scuffle, for what in happier 
days, he threw away. But there were too many examples 
of this sort for the expenditure of a useless compassion; 
just as the surgeon after a battle, grows case-hardened, from 
an excess of objects of pity. 

My memory, however, fixes itself on one honored excep- 
tion, the noblest of the noble, the best of the good. Old 
Major Willis Wormly had come in long before the new era. 
He belonged to the old school of Virginians. Nothing could 
have torn him from the Virginia he loved, as Jacopi Foscari, 
Venice, but the marrying of his eldest daughter, Mary, to a 
gentleman of Alabama. The Major was something between, 
or made of about equal parts, of Uncle Toby and Mr. Pick- 
wick, with a slight flavor of Mr. Micawber. He was the 
soul of kindness, disinterestedness and hospitality. Love to 
every thing that had life in it, burned like a flame in his 
large and benignant soul; it flowed over in his countenance, 
and glowed through every feature, and moved every muscle 
in the frame it animated. The Major lived freely, was 
rather corpulent, and had not a lean thing on his plantations; 
the negroes; the dogs; the horses; the cattle; the very 
chickens, wore an air of corpulent complacency, and bustled 
about with a good-humored rotundity. There was more 
laughing, singing and whistling at " Hollywood," than would 
have set up a dozen Irish fairs. The Major's wife had, from 
a long life of affection, and the practice of the same pursuits, 
and the indulgence of the same feelings and tastes, got so 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. IQl 

much like him, that she seemed a feminine and modest edition 
of himself. Four daughters were all that remained in the 
family — two had been married off — and they had no son. 
The girls ranged from sixteen to twenty-two, fine, hearty, 
whole-souled, wholesale, cheerful lassies, with constitutions 
to last, and a flow of spirits like mountain springs — not 
beauties, but good housewife girls, whose open counte- 
nances, and neat figures, and rosy cheeks, and laughing eyes, 
and frank and cordial manners, made them, at home, abroad, 
on horseback or on foot, at the piano or discoursing on the 
old English books, or Washington Irving's Sketch Book, a 
favorite in the family ever since it was written, as entertain- 
ing and as well calculated to fix solid impressions on the 
heart, as any four girls in the country. The only difficulty 
was, they were so much alike, that you were put to fault 
which to fall in love with. They were all good housewives, 
or women, rather. But Mrs. Wormley, or Aunt Wormley, 
as we called her, was as far ahead of any other woman in that 
way, as could be found this side of the Virginia border. If there 
was any thing good in the culinary line that she couln't make, 
I should like to know it. The Major lived on the main stage 
road, and if any decently dressed man ever passed the house 
after sundown, he escaped by sheer accident. The house 
was greatly visited. The Major knew every body, and every- 
body near him knew the Major. The stage coach couldn't stop 
long, but in the hot summer days, about noon, as the driver toot- 
ed his horn at the top of the red hill, two negro boys stood 
opposite the door, with trays of the finest fruit, and a pitcher 



103 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

of cider for the refreshment of the wayfarers. The Major 
himself being on the look-out, with his hands over his eyes 
bowing — as he only could bow — vaguely into the coach, and 
looking wistfully, to find among the passengers an acquaint- 
ance whom he could prevail upon to get out and stay a week 
with him. There wasn't a poor neighbor to whom the Major 
had not been as good as an insurer, without premium, for 
his stock, or for his crop; and from the way he rendered 
the service, you would think he was the party obliged — as 
he was. 

This is not, in any country I have ever been in, a money- 
making business; and the Major, though he always made 
good crops, must have broke at it longer ago, but for the for- 
tunate death of a few Aunts, after whom the girls were 
named, v/ho, paying their several debts of nature, left the 
Maijor the means to pay his less serious, but still weighty 
obligations. 

The Major — for a wonder, being a Virginian — had no 
partisan politics. He could not have. His heart could not 
hold any thing that implied a warfare upon the thoughts or 
feelings of others. He voted all the time for his friends, that 
is, the candidate living nearest to him, regretting, generally, 
that he did not have another vote for the other man. 

It would have done a Camanche Indian's heart good to 
see all the family together — grand-children and all — of a 
winter evening, with a guest or two, to excite sociability a 
little — not company enough to embarrass the manifestations 
of affection. Such a concordance — as if all hearts were at- 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 1Q3 

tuned to the same feeling — the old lady knitting in the 
I corner — the old man smoking his pipe opposite — both of 
their fine faces radiating in the pauses of the laugh, the jest, 
or the caress, the infinite satisfaction within. 

It vt'as enough to convert an abolitionist, to see the old 
Major when he came home from a long journey of two days 
to the county town; the negroes running in a string to the 
buggy; this one to hold the horse, that one to help the old 
man out, and the others to inquire hov/ he was; and to 
observe the benignity with which — the kissing of the girls 
and the old lady hardly over — he distributed a piece of 
calico here, a plug of tobacco there, or a card of town 
ginger-bread to the little snow-balls that grinned around 
him; what was given being but a small part of the gift, 
divested of the kind, cheerful, ro'llicK^ng way the old fellow 
had of giving it. 

The Major had given out his autograph (as had almost 
every body else) as endorser on three several bills of exchange, 
of even tenor and date, and all maturing at or about the 
same time. His friend's friend failed to pay as he or his 
firm agreed, the friend himself did no better, and the Major, 
before he knew any thing at all of his danger, found a writ 
served upon him, and was told by his friend that he was 
dead broke, and all he could give him was his sympathy; 
the which, the Major as gratefully received as if it was a 
legal tender and would pay the debt. The Major's friends 
advised him he could get clear of it; that notice of 
protest not having been sent to the Major's post-office, 



104 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

released him; but the Major wouldn't hear of such a defence, 
he said his understanding was, that he was to pay the debt if 
his friend didn't; and to slip out of it by a quibble, was 
little better than pleading the gambling act. Besides, 
what would the lawyers say? And v/hat would be said by 
his old friends in Virginia, when it reached their ears, 
that he had plead want of notice, to get clear of a debt, 
when everybody knew it was the same thing as if he had got 
notice. And if this defence were good at law, it would not 
be in equity; and if they took it into chancery, it mattered 
not what became of the case, the property would all go, and 
he never could expect to see the last of it. No, no; he 
would pay it, and had as well set about it at once. 

The rumor of the Major's condition spread far and wide. 
It reached old N. D., " an angel," whom the Major had 
" entertained," and one of the few that ever travelled that 
road. He came, post haste, to see into the affair; saw the 
creditor; made him, upon threat of defence, agree to take 
half the amount, and discharge the Major; advanced the 
money, and took the Major's negroes — except the house- 
servants — and put them on his Mississippi plantation to work 
out the debt. 

The Major's heart pained him at the thought of the 
negroes going off; he couldn't witness it; though he con- 
soled himself with the idea of the discipline and exercise 
being good for the health of sundry of them who had con- 
tracted sedentary diseases. 

The Major turned his house into a tavern — that is 



HOW THE TIMES SERVED THE VIRGINIANS. 105 

changed its name — put up a sign, and three weeks after- 
wards, you couldn't have told that any thing had happened. 
The family were as happy as ever — the Major never having 
put on airs of arrogance in prosperity, felt no humiliation in 
adversity; the girls were as cheerful, as bustling, and as 
light-hearted as ever, and seemed to think of the duties of 
hostesses as mere bagatelles, to enliven the time. The old 
Major was as profluent of anecdotes as ever, and never grew 
tired of telling the same ones to every new guest; and yet, 
the Major's anecdotes were all of Virginia growth, and not 
one of them under the legal age of twenty-one. If the Major 
had worked his negroes as he had those anecdotes, he would 
have been able to pay off the bills of exchange without any 
difficulty. 

The old lady and the girls laughed at the anecdotes, 
though they must have heard them at least a thousand times, 
and knew them by heart; for the Major told them without 
the variations; and the other friends of the Major laughed 
too; indeed, with such an air of thorough benevolence, and 
in such a truly social spirit did the old fellow proceed " the 
tale to unfold," that a Cassius like rascal that wouldn't laugh, 
whether he saw any thing to laugh at or not, ought to have 
6een sent to the Penitentiary for life — half of the time to be 
spent in solitary confinement. 



106 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



ASSAULT AND BATTERY. 

A trial came off not precisely in our bailiwick, but in the 
neighborhood, of great comic interest. It was really a case 
of a good deal of aggravation, and the defendants, fearing 
the result, employed four of the ablest lawyers practising at 
the M. bar, to defend them. The offence charged was only 
assault and battery; but the evidence showed a conspiracy 
to inflict great violence on the person of the prosecutor, who 
had done nothing to provoke it, and that the attempt to ef- 
fect it was followed by severe injury to him. The prosecutor 
was an original. He had been an old-field schoolmaster, and 
was as conceited and pedantic a fellow as could be found in a 
summer's day, even in that profession. It was thought the 
policy of the defence to make as light of the case as possible, 
and to cast as much ridicule on the affair as they could. J. 
E. and W. M. led the defence, and, although the talents of 
the former were rather adapted to grave discussion than plea- 
santry, he agreed to doff his heavy armor for the lighter wea- 
pons of wit and ridicule. M. was in his element. He was 
at all times and on all occasions at home when fun was to be 



ASSAULT AND BATTERY. ]()7 

raised: the difficulty with him was rather to restrain than to 
create mirth and laughter. The case was called and put to 
the jury. The witness, one Burwell Shines, was called for 
the prosecution. A broad grin was upon the faces of the 
counsel for the defence as he came forvv^ard. It was increas- 
ed when the clerk said, " Burr ell Shines come to the book;'* 
and the witness, with deliberate emphasis, remarked — " My 
christian name is not Burrell, but Burwell — though I am 
vulgarly denominated by the former epithet." "Well," said 
the clerk, " 'Buv-ivell Shines come to the book and be 
sworn." He was sworn and directed to take the stand. He 
was a picture! 

He was dressed with care. His toilet was elaborate and 
befitting the magnitude and dignity of the occasion, the part 
he was to fill and the high presence into which he had come. 
He was evidently favorably impressed with his own personal 
pulchritude; yet, with an air of modest deprecation, as if he 
said by his manner, '' after all, what is beauty that man 
should be proud of it, and what are fine clothes, that the 
wearers should put themselves above the unfortunate mortals 
who have them not?" 

He advanced with deliberate gravity to the stand. There 
he stood, his large bell-crowned hat with nankeen-colored 
nap an inch long in his hand; which hat he carefully hand- 
ed over the bar to the clerk, to hold until he should get 
through his testimony. He wore a blue single-breasted coat 
with new brass buttons; a vest of bluish calico; nankeen 
pants that struggled to make both ends meet, but failed, by 



108 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

a few inches, in the legs, yet made up for it by fitting a little 
better than the skin every where else; his head stood upon 
a shirt collar that held it up by the ears, and a cravat some- 
thing smaller than a table-cloth, bandaged his throat: his 
face was narrow, long and grave, with an indescribable air of 
ponderous wisdom, which, as Fox said of Thurlow, " proved 
him necessarily a hypocrite; as it was impossible for any 
man to be as wise as he looked." Gravity and decorum mark- 
ed every lineament of his countenance, and every line of his 
body. All the wit of Hudibras could not have moved a mus- 
cle of his face. His conscience would have smitten him for 
a laugh almost as soon as for an oath. His hair was roach- 
ed up, and stood as erect and upright as his body; and his 
voice v/as slow, deep, in " linked sweetness long drawn out," 
and modulated according to the camp-meeting standard of 
elocution. Three such men at a country frolic, would have 
turned an old Virginia Reel into a Dead March. He was 
one of Carlyle's earnest men. Cromwell would have made 
him Ensign of the Ironsides, and ex-officio chaplain at first 
sight. He took out his pocket handkerchief, slowly unfolded 
it from the shape in which it came from the washerwoman's, 
and awaited the interrogation. As he waited, he spat on the 
floor and nicely wiped it out with his foot. The solicitor told 
him to tell about the difficulty in hand. He gazed around 
on the court — then on the bar — ^then on the jury — then on 
the crowd — addressing each respectively as he turned: 
' May it please your honor — Gentlemen of the bar — Gentle- 
men of the jury — Audience. Before proceeding to give my 



ASSAULT AND BATTERY. 109 

testimonial observations, I must premise that I am a mem- 
ber of the Methodist Episcopal, otherwise called Wesleyan 
persuasion of Christian individuals. One bright Sabbath 
morning in May, the 15th day of the month, the past year, 
while the birds were singing their matutinal songs from the 
trees, I sallied forth from the dormitory of my Seminary, to 
enjoy the reflections so well suited to that auspicious occa- 
sion. I had not proceeded far, before my ears were accost- 
ed with certain Bacchanalian sounds of revelry, which pro- 
ceeded from one of those haunts of vicious depravity, located 
at the Cross Roads, near the place of my boyhood, and fash- 
ionably denominated a doggery. No sooner had I passed 
beyond the precincts of this diabolical rendezvous of rioting 
debauchees, than I heard behind me the sounds of approach- 
ing footsteps as if in pursuit. Having heard previously, sun- 
dry menaces, which had been made by these preposterous 
and incarnadine individuals of hell, now on trial in prospect 
of condign punishment, fulminated against the longer contin- 
uance of my corporeal salubrity, for no better reason than 
that I reprobated their criminal orgies, and not wishing my 
reflections to be disturbed, I hurried my steps with a gradual 
accelerated motion. Hearing, however, their continued ad- 
vance, and the repeated shoutings, articulating the murder- 
ous accents. "Kill him! Kill Shadbelly with his praying 
clothes on!" (which was a profane designation of myself 
and my religious profession;) and casting my head over my 
left shoulder in a manner somehow reluctantly thus, (throw- 
ing his head to one side,) and perceiving their near approx- 



110 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

imation, I augmented my speed into what might be denom- 
inated a gentle slope — and subsequently augmented the 
same into a species of dog-trot. But all would not do. 
Gentlemen, the destroyer came. As 1 reached the fence and 
was about propelling my body over the same, felicitating my- 
self on my prospect of escape from my remorseless pursuers, 
they arrived, and James William Jones, called, by nick- 
name. Buck Jones, that red-headed character now at the bar 
of this honorable court, seized a fence rail, grasped it in both 
hands, and standing on tip-toe, hurled the same, with mighty 
emphasis, against my cerebellum: which blow felled me to 
the earth. Straightway, like ignoble curs upon a disabled 
lion, these bandit ruffians and incarnadine assassins leaped 
upon me, some pelting, some bruising, some gouging — " every 
thing by turns, and nothing long," as the poet hath it; and 
one of them, which one unknown to me — having no eyes be- 
hind — inflicted with his teeth, a grievous wound upon my 
person — where, I need not specify. At length, when thus 
prostrate on the ground, one of those bright ideas, common 
to minds of men of genius, struck me: I forthwith sprang 
to my feet — drew forth my cutto — circulated the same with 
much vivacity among their several and respective corporeal 
systems, and every time I circulated the same I felt their 
iron grasp relax. As cowardly recreants, even to their own 
guilty friendships, two of these miscreants, though but slight- 
ly perforated by my cutto, fled, leaving the other two, whom 
I had disabled by the vigor and energy of my incisions, pros- 
trate and in my power: these lustily called for quarter 



ASSAULT AND BATTERY. HI 

shouting out "enough!" or, in their barbarous dialect, being 
as corrupt in language as in morals, "nuff;" which quarter 
I magnanimously extended them, as unworthy of my farther 
vengeance, and fit only as subject of penal infiiction, at the 
hands of the offended laws of their country; to which laws 
I do now consign them: hoping such mercy for them as their 
crimes will permit; which, in my judgment, (having read the 
code,) is not much. This is my statement on oath, fully and 
truly, nothing extenuating and naught setting down in malice; 
and, if I have omitted any thing, in form or substance, I 
stand ready to supply the omission; and if I have stated any 
thing amiss, I will cheerfully correct the same, limiting the 
averment, with appropriate modifications, provisions and re- 
strictions. The learned counsel may now proceed more 
particularly to interrogate me of and respecting the pre- 
mises." 

After this oration, Burwell Aviped the perspiration from 
his brow, and the counsel for the State took him. Few 
questions were asked him, however, by that official; he con- 
fining himself to a recapitulation in simple terms, of what 
the witness had declared, and procuring Burwell's assent to 
his translation. Long and searching was the cross-examination 
by the defendants' counsel; but it elicited nothing favorable 
to the defence, and nothing shaking, but much to confirm 
Burwell's statement. 

After some other evidence, the examination closed, and 
the argument to the jury commenced. The solicitor very 
briefly adverted to the leading facts, deprecated any attempt 



112 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

to turn the case into ridicule — admitted that the witness 
was a man of eccentricity and pedantry, but harmless and 
inoffensive — a man evidently of conscientiousness and 
respectability; that he had shown himself to be a peaceable 
man, but when occasion demanded, a brave man; that there 
was a conspiracy to assassinate him upon no cause except an 
independence, which was honorable to him, and an attempt 
to execute the purpose, in pursuance of, previous threats and 
severe injury by several confederates on a single person, 
and this on the Sabbath, and when he was seeking to avoid 
them. 

W. M. rose to reply. All Screamersville turned out to 
hear him. William was a great favorite — the most popular 
speaker in the country — had the versatility of a mocking- 
bird, an aptitude for burlesque that would have given him 
celebrity as a dramatist, and a power of acting that would 
have made his fortune on the boards of a theatre. A rich 
treat was expected, but it didn't come. The witness had 
taken all the wind out of William's sails. He had rendered 
burlesque impossible. The thing as acted was more ludi- 
crous than it could be as described. The crowd had laughed 
themselves hoarse already; and even M.'s comic powers 
seemed and were felt by himself to be humble imitations of 
a greater master. For once in his life, M. dragged his sub- 
ject heavily along — the matter began to grow serious — fun 
failed to come when M. called it up. M. closed betv/een a 
lame argument, a timid deprecation, and some only tolerable 
humor. He was followed by E., in a discursive, argument- 



ASSAULT AND BATTERY. 113 

ative, sarcastic, drag-net sort of speech, which did all that 
could be done for the defence. The solicitor briefly closed 
— seriously and confidently confining himself to a repetition 
of the matters first insisted, and answering some of the points 
of the counsel. 

It was an ominous fact that a juror, before the jury 
retired, under leave of the court, recalled a witness for the 
purpose of putting a question to him — the question was, how 
much the defendants were worth; the answer was, about 
two thousand dollars. 

The jury shortly after returned into court with a verdict 
which " sized their pile." 



114 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA, 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ. 

CORRESPOXDEKCE. 

Office of the Jurist-maker, )- 
City of Got-Him, Nov. 18, 1852.; 

Col. Simon Suggs, Jr. 

My Bear Sir, — Having established, at great expense, 
and from motives purely patriotic and disinterested, a month- 
ly periodical for the purpose of supplying a desideratum in 
American Literature, namely, the commemoration and per- 
petuation of the names, characters, and personal and profes- 
sional traits and histories of American lawyers and jurists, I 
have taken the liberty of soliciting your consent to be made 
the subject of one of the memoirs, which shall adorn the col- 
umns of this Journal. This suggestion is made from my 
knowledge, shared by the intelligence of the whole country, 
of your distinguished standing an^ merits in our noble pro- 
fession; and it is seconded by the wishes and requests of 
many of the most prominent gentlemen in public and private 
life, who have the honor of your acquaintance. 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. H^ 

The advantages of a work of this, sort, in its more public 
and general bearing, are so patent, that it would be useless 
for me to refer to them. The effect of the publication upon 
the fame of the individual commemorated is, if not equally 
apparent, at least, equally decided. The fame of an Ameri- 
can lawyer, like that of an actor, though sufficiently marked 
and cognizable within the region of his practice, and by the 
witnesses of his performances, is nevertheless, for the want 
of an organ for its national dissemination, or of an enduring 
memorial for its preservation, apt to be ephemeral, or, at 
most, to survive among succeeding generations, only in the 
form of unauthentic and vague traditions. What do we know 
of Henry or of Grundy as lawyers, except that they were 
eloquent and successful advocates. But what they did 
was to acquire reputation, and, of course, the true value of 
it, is left to conjecture; or, as in the case of the former, es- 
pecially, to posthumous invention or embellishment. 

It was the observation of the great Pinkey, that the 
lawyer's distinction was preferable to all others, since it 
v/as impossible to acquire in our profession, a false or frau- 
dulent reputation. How true this aphorism is, the pages of 
this L.w M e will abundantly illustrate. 

The value, and, indeed, the fact of distinction, consists 
in its uncommonness. In a whole nation of giants, the 
Welsh monster in Barnum's Museum would be undistin- 
guished. Therefore, we — excuse the editorial plural — strive 
to collect the histories only of the most eminent of the pro- 
fession in the several States; the aggregate of whom reaches 



1\Q SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



some two or three hundred names. You have undoubtedly 
seen some of the numbers of our work, which will better il- 
lustrate our plan, and the mode of its past, as well as the 
intended mode of its future, execution. 

It would be affectation, my dear sir, to deny that what 
mainly consoles us under a sense of the hazardous nature of 
such an enterprise to our personal fortunes — pardon the pun, 
if you please — and amidst the anxieties of so laborious an 
undertaking, is the expectation, that, through our labors, 
the reputation of distinguished men of the country, constitut- 
ing its moral treasure, may be preserved for the admiration 
and direction of mankind, not for a day, but for all time. 
And it has occurred to me, that such true merit as yours 
might find a motive for your enrolment among the known sages 
and profound intellects of the land, not less in the natural de- 
sire of a just perpetuation of renown, than in the patriotism 
which desires the improvement of the race of lawyers who 
are to come after you, and the adding to the accredited stand- 
ards of public taste and professional attainment and genius. 

We know from experience, that the characteristic diffi- 
dence of the profession, in many instances, shrinks from the 
seeming, though falsely seeming, indelicacy of an egotistical 
parade of one's own talents and accomplishments, and from 
walking into a niche of the Pantheon of American genius we 
have opened, and over the entrance to which, " FOR THE 
GREAT " is inscribed. But the facility with which this diffi- 
culty has been surmounted by some, of whose success we had 
reason to entertain apprehensions, adds but further evidence 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. IX^ 

Of the capacity which the noble profession of the law gives 
for the most arduous exploits. Besides, sir, although the 
facts are expected to be furnished by the subject, yet the 
first person is but seldom used in the memoir — some com- 
plaisant friend, or some friend's name being employed as edi- 
tor of the work; the subject sometimes, indeed, having no- 
thing to do except to revive it and transmit it to this oflBce. 
You may remember, my dear Colonel, the exclamatory 
line of the poet — 



How hard it is to climb 



The steep where fame's proud temple shines afar." 

And so it used to be: but in this wonderfully progress- 
ive age it is no longer so. It is the pride of your humble 
correspondent to have constructed a plan, by means of his 
journal, whereby a gentleman of genius may, with the assist- 
ance of a single friend, or even without it, wind himself, up 
from the vale below, as by a windlass, up to the very cupola 
of the temple. 

May we rely upon your sending us the necessary papers, 
viz., a sketch of your life, genius, exploits, successes, accom- 
plishments, virtues, family antecedents, personal pulchri- 
tudes, professional habitudes, and whatever else you may 
deem interesting. You can see from former numbers of our 
work, that nothing will be irrelevant or out of place. The 
sketch may be from ten to sixty pages in length. 

Please send also a good daguerreotype likeness of yourself, 
from which an engraving may be executed, to accompany the 



118 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

sketch. Tlie daguerreotype had l)etter he taken with refer- 
ence to the engraving to accompany the memoir — the hair 
combed or brushed from the brow, so as to show a high fore- 
head — the expression meditative — a book in the hand, &c. 

Hoping soon to hear favorably from you, I am, with 
great respect and esteem, 

The Editor. 

P. S. It is possible that sketches of one or two distin- 
guished gentlemen, not lawyers, may be given. If there is 
any exception of class made, we hope to be able to give you 
a sketch and engraving of the enterprising Mr. Barnum. 



Rackinsack, Dec. 1, 1852. 
To Mb. Editor. 

Dear Sir — I got your letter dated 18 Nov., asking me 
to send you my life and karackter for your Journal. Im 
obleeged to you for your perlite say so, and so forth. I got 
a friend to rite it — my own ritin being mostly perfeshunal. 
He done it — but he rites such a cussed bad hand I cant rede 
it: I reckon its all korrect tho'. 

As to my doggerrytype I cant send it there aint any dog- 
gerytype man about here now. There never was but won, 
and he tried his mershine on Jemmy O. a lawyer here, and 
Jem was so mortal ugly it bust his mershine all to pieces 
trying to git him down, and liked to killed the man that in- 
gineered the wurks. 

You can take father's picter on Jonce Hooper's book — 



SIMON SUGGS, JK., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 1X9 

take off the bend in the back, and about twenty years of age 
off en it and make it a leetle likelier and it'll suit me but dress 
it up gentle in store close. 

Respectfully till death, 

Simon Suggs, Jr. 
P. S. — I rite from here where I am winding up my fust 
wife's estate which theyve filed a bill in chancery. S. S. Jr. 



City of Got-Him, Dec. 11, 1852. 
Col, Simon Suggs, Jr. 

My Dear 8ir — The very interesting sketch of your life 
requested by us, reached here accompanied by your favor of 
the 1st inst., for which please receive our thanks. 

We were very much pleased with the sketch, and think it 
throws light on a new phase of character, and supplies a de- 
sideratum in the branch of literature we are engaged in — the 
description of a lawyer distinguished in the out-door labors of 
the profession, and directing great energies to the prepara- 
tion of proof. 

We fear, however, the suggestion you made of the use of 
the engraving of your distinguished father v/ill not avail; as 
the Author, Mr. Hooper, has copyrighted his work, and we 
should be exposing ourselves to a prosecution by trespassing 
on his patent. Besides, the execution of such a work by no 
better standard, would not be creditable either to our artist, 
yourself, or our Journal. We hope you will conclude to 
send on your daguerreotype to be appended to the lively and 
instructive sketch you furnish; and we entertain no doubt 



120 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

that the contemplated publication will redound greatly to 
your honor, and establish yours among the classical names 
of the American bar. 

"With profound respect, &c.. 
The Editor. 

P. S. — Our delicacy caused us to omit, in our former 
letter, to mention what we suppost was generally understood, 
viz., the fact that the cost to us of preparing engravings 
&c., &c., for the sketches or memoirs, is one hundred and 
fifty dollars, which sum it is expected, of course, the gentle- 
man who is perpetuated in our work, will forward to us 
before the insertion of his biography. We merely allude to 
this trifling circumstance, lest, in the pressure of important 
business and engagements with which your mind is charged, 
it might be forgotten. 

Again, very truly, &c., 

Ed. Jueist-maker. 



Rackinsack, Dec. 25, 1852. 
Dear Mr. Editor — In your p. s. which seems to be the 
creem of your correspondents you say I can't get in your 
book without paying one hundred and fifty dollars — pretty 
tall entrants fee! I suppose though children and niggers 
half price — I believe I will pass. I'll enter a nolly prossy 
q. 0-n-e-h-u-n-d-r-e-d dollars and fifty better! Je-whelli- 
kens! 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 121 

I just begin to see the pint of many things which was very 
vague and ondefinit before. Put Barnum in first — one hun- 
dred and fifty dollars! 

That's the consideratum you talk of is it. 

1^*1 REMAIN Respy 

Simon Suggs, Jr. 

Therefore wont go in. 

P. S. — Suppose you rite to the old man! ! May be he'd 
go in with Barnum! ! ! May be he'd like to take two 
chances? He's young — never seen much! ! Lives in a 
new country! ! ! Aint Smart! ! I say a hundred and fifty 
dollars! ! ! 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., 

OF 

RACKINSACK— ARKANSAW. 

This distinguished lawyer, unlike the majority of those 
favored subjects of the biographical muse, whom a patriotic 
ambition to add to the moral treasures of the country, has 
prevailed on, over the instincts of a native and professional 
modesty, to supply subjects for the pens and pencils of their 
friends, was not quite, either in a literal or methaphorical 
sense, a self-made man. He had ancestors. They were, 
moreover, men of distinction; and, on the father's side, in 
the first and second degrees of ascent known to fame. The 



122 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

father of this distinguished barrister was, and, happily, is 
Capt. Simon Suggs, of the Tallapoosa volunteers, and cele- 
brated not less for his financial skill and abilities, than for 
his martial exploits. His grandfather, the Rev. Jedediah 
Suggs, vvas a noted divine for the Anti-Missionary or Hard- 
shell Baptist persuasion in Georgia. For further informa- 
tion respecting these celebrities, the ignorant reader — the 
well-informed already know them — is referred to the work 
of Johnson Hooper, Esq., one of the most authentic of 
modern biographers. 

The question of the propagability of moral and intellect- 
ual qualities is a somewhat mooted point, into the metaphysics 
of which we do not propose to enter; but that there are 
instances of moral and intellectual as well as physical like- 
nesses in families, is an undisputed fact, of which the subject 
of this memoir is a new and striking illustration. 

In the month of July, Anno Domini, 1810, on the ever 
memorable fourth day of the month, in the county of Carroll, 
and State of Georgia, Simon Suggs, Jr., first saw the light, 
mingling the first noise he made in the world with the patri- 
otic explosions and rejoicings going on in honor of the day. 
We have endeavored in vain to ascertain, whether the auspi- 
cious period of the birth of young Simon was a matter of 
accident, or of human calculation, and sharp foresight, for 
which his immediate ancestor on the paternal side was so 
eminently distinguished; but, beyond a knowing wink, and 
a characteristic laudation of his ability to accomplish won- 
derful things, and to keep the run of the cards, on the part 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 123 

of the veteran captain, we have obtained no reliable informa- 
tion on this interesting subject. It is something, however, 
to be remarked upon, that the natal day of his country and 
of Simon were the same. 

Very early in life, our hero — for Peace hath her victories, 
and, of course, her heroes, as well as war — gave a promise 
of the hereditary genius of the Suggs's; but as the incidents 
in proof of this rest on the authority, merely, of family 
tradition, we shall not violate the sanctity of the domestic 
fireside, by relating them. In the ninth year of his age he 
v»^as sent to the public school in the neighborhood. Here he 
displayed that rare vivacity and enterprise, and that shrewd- 
ness and invention, which subsequently distinguished his 
riper age. Like his father, his study was less of books than 
of men. Indeed, it required a considerable expenditure of 
birch, and much wear and tear of patience, to overcome his 
constitutional aversion to letters sufficiently to enable him to 
master the alphabet. Not that he was too lazy to learn; 
on the contrary, it was his extreme industry in other and 
more congenial pursuits that stood in the way of the seden- 
tary business of instruction. It was not difficult to see that 
the mantle of the Captain had fallen upon his favorite son; 
at any rate, the breeches in which young Simon's lower 
proportions were encased, bore a wonderful resemblance to the 
old cloak that the Captain had sported on so many occa- 
sions. 

Simon's course at school was marked by many of the traits 
which distinguished him in after life; so true is the aphorism 



134 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

which the great Englishman enounced, that tlie boy is father 
to the man. His genius was eminently commercial, and he 
was by no means deficient in practical arithmetic. This pe- 
culiar turn of mind displayed itself in his barterings for the 
small wares of schoolboy merchandise — tops, apples and 
marbles, sometimes rising to the dignity of a pen-knife. In 
these exercises of infantile enterprise, it was observable that 
Simon always got the advantage in the trade; and in that 
sense of charity which conceals defects, he may be said to 
have always displayed that virtue to a considerable degree. 
The same love of enterprise early led him into games of 
hazard, such as push-pin, marbles, chuck-a-luck, heads and 
tails, and other like boyish pastimes, in which his ingenuity 
was rewarded by marked success. The vivacious and eager 
spirit of this gifted urchin sometimes evolved and put in 
practice, even in the presence of the master, expedients of 
such sort as served to enliven the proverbial monotony of 
scholastic confinement and study: such, for example, were 
the traps set for the unwary and heedless scholar, made by 
thrusting a string through the eye of a needle and passing it 
through holes in the school bench — one end of the string 
being attached to the machinist's leg, and so fixed, that by 
pulling the string, the needle would protrude through the 
further hole and into the person of the urchin sitting over it, 
to the great divertisement of the spectators of this innocent 
pastime. The holes being filled vv'ith soft putty, the needle 
was easily replaced, and the point concealed, so that when 
the outcry of the victim was heard, Simon was diligently 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. ^95 

perusing his book, and the only consequence was a dismissal 
of the complaint, and the amercement of the complainant by 
the master, x>i'0 falso clamore. Beginning to be a little 
more boldly enterprising, the usual fortune of those who 
" conquer or excel mankind " befell our hero, and he was 
made the scape-goat of the school; all vagrant offences that 
could not be proved against any one else being visited upon 
him; a summary procedure, which, as Simon remarked, 
brought down genius to the level of blundering mediocrity, 
and made of no avail the most ingenious arts of deception 
and concealment. The master of the old field school was 
one of the regular faculty, who had great faith in the old 
medicine for the eradication of moral diseases — the cutaneous 
tonic, as he called it — and repelled, with great scorn, the 
modern quackeries of kind encouragement and moral suasion. 
Accordingly, the flagellations and cuffings which Simon 
received, were such and so many as to give him a high 
opinion of the powers of endurance, the recuperative ener- 
gies, and the immense vitality of the human system. Simon 
tried, on one occasion, the experiment of fits; but Dominie 
Dobbs was inexorable; and as the fainting posture only 
exposed to the Dominie new and fresher points of attack, 
Simon was fain to unroll his eyes, draw up again his lower 
jaw, and come to. Simon, remarking in his moralizing 
way upon the virtue of perseverance, has been heard to 
declare that he " lost that game " by being unable to keep 
from scratching during a space of three minutes and a half; 
which he would have accomplished, but for the Dominie's 



126 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

toucliing him on the raw, caused by riding a race bare-backed 
the Sunday before. ''Upon what slender threads hang the 
greatest events! " Doubtless these experiences of young 
Suggs were not without effect upon so observing and saga- 
cious an intellect. To them we may trace that strong re- 
publican bias and those fervid expressions in favor of Dem- 
ocratic principles, which, all through life, and in the ranks 
of whatever party he might be found, he ever exhibited and 
made; and probably to the unfeeling, and sometimes unjust 
inflictions of Dominie Dobbs, was he indebted for his devo- 
tion to that principle of criminal justice he so pertinaciously 
upheld, which requires full proof of guilt before it awards 
punishment. 

We must pass over a few years in the life of Simon, who 
continued at school, growing in size and wisdom; and not 
more instructed by what he learned there, than by the valu- 
able information which his reverend father gave him in the 
shape of his sage counsels and sharp experiences of the 
world and its ways and wiles. An event occurred in Simon's 
fifteenth year, which dissolved the tie that bound him to his 
rustic Alma Mater, the only institution of letters which 
can boast of his connection with it. Dominie Dobbs, one 
Friday evening, shortly after the close of the labors of the 
scholastic week, was quietly taking from a hankerchief in 
which he had placed it, a flash of powder; as he pressed 
the knot of the handkerchief, it pressed upon the slide of 
the flash, which as it revolved, bore upon a lucifer match 
that ignited the powder; the explosion tore the handker- 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 127 

chief to pieces, and also one ear and three fingers of the 
Dominie's right hand — those fingers that had wielded the 
birch upon young Simon with such effect. Suspicion fell on 
Simon, notwithstanding he was the first boy to leave the 
school that evening. This suspicion derived some corrobo- 
ration from other facts; but the evidence was wholly cir- 
cumstantial. No positive proof whatever connected Simon 
with this remarkable accident; but the characteristic pru- 
dence of the elder Suggs suggested the expediency of Si- 
mon's leaving for a time a part of the country where char- 
acter was held in so little esteem. Accordingly the influ- 
ence of his father procured for Simon a situation in the 
neighboring county of Randolph, in the State of Alabama, 
near the gold mines, as clerk or assistant in a store for re- 
tailing spirituous liquors, which the owner, one Dixon 
Tripes, had set up for refreshment of the public, without 
troubling the County Court for a license. Here Simon was 
early initiated into a knowledge of men, in such situations 
as to present their characters nearly naked to the eye. The 
neighbors were in the habit of assembling at the grocery, 
almost every day, in considerable numbers, urged thereto 
by the attractions of the society, and the beverage there 
abounding; and games of various sorts added to the charms 
of conversation and social intercourse. It was the general 
rendezvous of the fast young gentlemen for ten miles around; 
and horse-racing, shooting-matches, quoit-pitching, cock- 
fighting, and card-playing filled up the vacant hours between 
drinks. 



128 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

In such choice society it may well be supposed that so 
sprightly a temper and so inquisitive a mind as Simon's 
found congenial and delightful employment; and it was not 
long before his acquirements ranked him among the fore- 
most in that select and spirited community. Although good 
at all the games mentioned, card-playing constituted his fa- 
vorite amusement, not less for the excitement it afforded 
him, than for the rare opportunity it gave him of studying 
the human character. 

The skill he attained in measuring distances, was equal 
to that displayed in his youth, by his venerated father, inso- 
much that in any disputed question in pitching or shooting, 
to allow him to measure was to give him the match; while 
his proficiency " in arranging the papers " — vulgarly called 
stocking a pack — was nearly equal to sleight of hand. 
Having been appointed judge of a quarter race on one occa- 
sion, he decided in favor of one of the parties by three 
inches and a half; and such was the sense of the winner of 
Simon's judicial expertness and impartiality, that immediate- 
ly after the decision was made, he took Simon behind the 
grocery and divided the purse with him. By means of the 
accumulation of his wonderful industry, Simon went forth 
with a somewhat heterogenous assortment of plunder, to 
set up a traffic on his own account: naturally desiring a 
wider theatre, which he found in the city of Columbus in 
his native State. He returned to the paternal roof with an 
Increased store of goods and experience from his sojourn in 
Alabama. Among other property, he brought with him a 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. ;] 29 

small race mare, which excited the acquisitiveness of his 
father, who, desiring an easier mode of acquisition than by- 
purchase, purposed to stake a horse he had (the same he 
had swapped for, on the road to Montgomery, with the land 
speculator,) against Simon's mare, upon the issue of a game 
of seven up. Since the game of chess between Mr. Jeffer- 
son and the French Minister, which lasted three years, per- 
haps there never has been a more closely contested match 
than that between these keen, sagacious and practised sports- 
men. It was played with all advantages; all the lights of 
science were shed upon that game. The old gentleman had 
the advantage of experience — the young of genius: it was 
the old fogy against young America. For a long time the 
result was dubious; as if Dame Fortune was unable or un- 
willing to decide between her favorites. The game stood 
six and six, and young Simon had the deal. Just as the 
deal commenced, after one of the most brilliant shuflaies the 
senior had ever made, Simon carelessly laid down his tor- 
toise-shell snuff-box on the table; and the father, affecting 
nonchalance, and inclining his head towairds the box, in 
order to peep under as the cards were being dealt, took a 
pinch of snuff; the titillating restorative was strongly adul- 
terated with cayenne pepper; the old fogy was compelled to 
sneeze; and just as he recovered from the concussion, the 
first object that met his eye was a Jack turning in Simon's 
hand. A struggle seemed to be going on in the old man's 
breast between a feeling of pride in his son and a sense of 
his individual loss. It soon ceased, however. The father 



130 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

congratulated his son upon his success, and swore that he 
was wasting his genius in a retail business of " shykeenry " 
when nature had designed him for the bar. 

To follow Simon through the eventful and checkered 
scenes of his nascent manhood, would be to enlarge this 
fcketch to a volume. We must be content to state briefly, 
that such was the proficiency he made in the polite accom- 
plishments of the day, and such the reputation he acquired 
in all those arts Vv^hich win success in legal practice, when 
thereto energetically applied, that many sagacious men pre- 
dicted that the laiv would yet elevate Simon to a prominent 
place in the public view. In his twenty-first year, Simon, 
starting out with a single mare to trade in horses in the ad- 
joining State of Alabama, returned, such was his success, 
with a drove of six horses and a mule, and among them 
the very mare he started with. These, with the exception 
of the mare, he converted into money; he had found 
her invincible in all trials of speed, and determined to 
keep her. Trying his fortune once more in Alabama, where 
he had been so eminently successful, Simon went to the 
city of Wetumpka, where he found the traces about coming 
off. As his mare had too much reputation to get bets upon 
her, an ingenious idea struck Simon — it was to take bets, 
through an agent, against her, in favor of a long-legged 
horse, entered for the races. It was very plain to see that 
Simon's mare was bound to vv^in if he let her. He backed 
his own mare openly, and got some trifling bets on her; and 
his agent was fortunate enough to pick up a green-looking 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. J 3]^ 

Georgia sucker, who bet with him the full amount left of 
Simon's " pile." The stakes were deposited in due form to 
the amount of some two thousand dollars. Simon was to 
ride his own mare — wild Kate, as he called her — and he had 
determined to hold her back, so that the other horse should 
win. But the Georgian, having by accident overheard the 
conversation between Simon and his agent, before the race, 
cut the reins of Simon's biridle nearly through, but in so 
ingenious a manner, that the incision did not appear. The 
race came off as it had been arranged; and as Simon was 
carefully holding back his emulous filly, at the same time 
giving her whip and spur, as though he would have her do 
her best, the bridle broke under the strain; and the mare, 
released from check, flew to and passed the gold like the wind, 
some three hundred yards ahead of the horse, upon the suc- 
cess of which Simon had " piled " up so largely. 

A shout of laughter like that which pursued Mazeppa, 
arose from the crowd (to whom the Georgian had communi- 
cated the facts), as Simon swept by, the involuntary winner 
of the race; and in that laugh, Simon heard the announce- 
ment of the discovery of his ingenious contrivance. He did 
not return. 

Old Simon, when he heard of this counter-mine, fell into 
paroxysms of grief, which could not find consolation in less 
than a quart of red-eye. Heart-stricken, the old patriarch 
exclaimed — ''Oh! Simon! my son Simon! to be overcome 
in that way — a Suggs to be humbugged! His own Jack to be 
taken outen his hand and turned on him! Oh! that I should 
ha' lived to see this day! " 



3^32 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

Proceeding to Montgomery, Simon found an opening on 
the thither side of a faro table; and having disposed of the 
race mare for three hundred dollars, banked on this capital, 
but with small success. Mr. Suggs' opinion of the people 
of Montgomery was not high; they were fashioned on a 
very diminutive scale, he used to say, and degraded the 
national amusement, by wagers, which an enterpirising boy 
would scorn to hazard at push-pin. One Sam Boggs, a 
young lawyer " of that ilk," having been cleaned out of his 
entire stake of ten dollars, wished to continue the game on 
credit, and Simon gratified him, taking his law license in 
pawn for two dollars and a half; which pawn the aforesaid 
Samuel failed to redeem. Ouir prudent and careful adven- 
turer filed away the sheepskin, thinking that sometime or 
other, he might be able to put it to good use. 

The losses Simon had met with, and the unpromising 
prospects of gentlemen who lived on their wits, now that the 
hard times had set in, produced an awakening influence upon 
his conscience. He determined to abandon the nomadic life 
he had led, and to settle himself down to some regular busi- 
ness. He had long felt a call to the law, and he now 
resolved to " locate," and apply himself to the duties of that 
learned profession. Simon was not long in deciding upon a 
location. The spirited manner in which the State of 
Arkansas had repudiated a public debt of some five hundred 
thousand dollars gave him a favorable opinion of that people 
as a community of litigants, while the accounts which came 
teeming from that bright land, of murders and felonies 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. ]^33 

innumberable, suggested the value of the criminal practice. 
He wended his way into that State, nor did he tarry until 
he reached the neighborhood of Fort Smith, a promising bor- 
der town in the very Ultima Thule of civilization, such as 
it was, just on the confines of the Choctaw nation. It was 
in this region, in the village of Rackensack, that he put up 
his sign, and offered himself for practice. I shall not at- 
tempt to describes the population. It is indescribable. I 
shall only say that the Indians and half-breeds across the 
border complained of it mightily. 

The motive for Simon's seeking so remote a location was 
that he might get in advance of his reputation — being laud- 
ably ambitious to acquire forensic distinction, he wished his 
fame as a lawyer to be independent of all extraneous and 
adventitious assistance. His first act in the practice was 
under the statute of Jeo Fails. It consisted of an amend- 
ment of the license he had got from Boggs, as before related; 
which amendment, was ingeniously effected by a careful era- 
sure of the name of that gentleman, and the insertion of his 
own in the place of it. Having accomplished this feat, he 
presented it to the court, then in session, and was duly 
admitted an attorney and counsellor at law and solicitotr in 
chancery. 

There is a tone and spirit of morality attaching to the 
profession of the law so elevating and pervasive in its in- 
fluence, as to work an almost instantaneous reformation in 
the character and habits of its disciples. If this be not so, 
it was certainly a most singular coincidence that, just at the 



]^34 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

time of his adoption of this vocation, Simon abandoned the 
favocite pastimes of his youth, and the irregularities of his 
earlier years. Indeed, he has been heard to declare that 
any lawyer, fulfilling conscientiously the duties of his pro- 
fession, will find enough to employ all his resources of art, 
strategem and dexterity, without resorting to other and more 
equivocal methods foir their exercise. 

It was not long before Simon's genius began to find oc- 
casions and opportunities of exhibition. When he first came 
to the bar, there were but seven suits on the docket, two of 
those being appeals from a justice's court. In the course 
of six months, so indefatigable was he in instructing clients, 
as to their rights, the number of suits grew to forty. Simon 
— or as he is now called — Colonel Suggs, determined on 
winning reputation in a most effective branch of practice — 
one that he shrewdly perceived was too much neglected by 
the profession — the branch of preparing cases out of court 
for trial. While other lawyers were busy in getting up the 
law of their cases, the Colonel was no less busy in getting up 
the facts of his. 

One of the most successful of Col. Suggs' efforts, was in 
behalf of his landlady, in whom he felt a warm and decided 
interest. She had been living for many years in ignorant 
contentedness, with an indolent, easy natured man, her hus- 
band, who was not managing her separate estate, consisting 
of a plantation and about twenty negroes, and some town 
property, with much thrift. The lady was buxom and gay 
and the union of the couple was unblessed with children. 



SIMON SUGGS. JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 235 

By the most insinuating manners, Col. Suggs at length suc- 
ceeded in opening the lady's eyes to a true sense of her hap- 
less condition, and the danger in which her property was 
placed, from the improvident habits of her spouse; and, 
having ingeniously deceived the unsuspecting husband into 
some suspicious appearances, which were duly observed by a 
witness or two provided for the purpose, he soon prevailed 
upon his fair hostess to file a bill of divorce; which she 
readily procured under the Colonel's auspices. Under the 
pretence of protecting her property from the claims of her 
husband's creditors, the Colonel was kind enough to take a 
conveyance of it to himself; and, shortly afterwards, the fair 
libellant; by which means he secured himself from those 
distracting cares which beset the young legal practitioner, 
who stands in immediate need of the wherewithal. 

Col. Suggs' prospects now greatly improved, and he saw be- 
fore him an extended field of usefulness. The whole commu- 
nity felt the effects of his activity. Long dormant claims 
came to light; and rights, of the very existence of which, 
suitors were not before avv'are, were brought into practical 
assetrtion. From restlessness and inactivity, the population 
became excited, inquisitive and intelligent, as to the laws of 
their country; and the ruinous effects of servile acquiescence 
in wrong and oppression, v>^ere averted. 

The fault of lawyers in preparing their cases was too 
generally a dilatoriness of movement, which sometimes de- 
ferred until it was too late, the creating of the proper im- 
pression upon the minds of the jury. This was not the fault 



136 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

of Col. Suggs; he always took time by the forelock. In- 
stead of waiting to create prejudices in the minds of the 
jury, until they were in the box, or deferring until then the 
arts of persuasion, he waited upon them before they weire 
empannelled; and he always succeeded better at that time, 
as they had not then received an improper bias from the 
testimony. In a case of any importance, he always managed 
to have his friends in the court room, so that when any of 
the jurors were challenged, he might have their places filled 
by good men and true; and, although this increased his ex- 
penses considerably, by a large annual bill at the grocery, 
he never regretted any expense, either of time, labor or mo- 
ney, necessary to success in his business. Such was his zeal 
for his clients! 

He was in the habit, too, of free correspondence with the 
opposite party, which enabled him at once to conduct his 
case with better advantage, and to supply any omissions or 
chasms in the proof: and so far did he carry the habit of 
testifying in his own cases, that his clients were always as- 
sured that in employing him, they were procuring counsel 
and witness at the same time, and by the same retainer. By 
a very easy process, he secured a large debt bajrred by the 
statute of limitations, and completely circumvented a fraud- 
ulent defendant who was about to avail himself of that men- 
dacious defence. He ante-dated the writ, and thus brought 
the case clear of the statute. 

One of the most harassing annoyances that were inflicted 
upon the emigrant community around him, was the revival 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 137 

of old claims contracted in the State from which they came, 
and which the Shylocks holding them, although they well 
knew that the pretended debtors had, expressly in consider- 
ation of getting rid of them, put themselves to the pains of 
exile and to the losses and discomforts of leaving their old 
homes and settling in a new country, in fraudulent violation 
of this object, were ruinously seeking to enforce, even to the 
deprivation of the property of the citizen. In one instance, 
a cashier of a Bank in Alabama brought on claims against 
some of the best citizens of the country, to a large amount, 
and instituted suits on them. Col. Suggs was retained to 
defend them. The cashier, a venerable-looking old gentle- 
man, who had extorted promises of payment, or at least had 
heard from the debtors promises of payment, which their 
necessitous circumstances had extorted, but to which he well 
knew they did not attach much importance, was waiting to 
become a witness against them. Col. Suggs so concerted 
operations, as to have some half-dozen of the most worthless 
of the population follow the old gentleman about whenever 
he went out of doors, and to be seen with him on various 
occasions; and busying himself in circulating through the 
community, divers reports disparaging the reputation of the 
witness, got the cases ready for trial. It was agreed that 
one verdict should settle all the cases^ The defendant 
pleaded the statute of limitations; and to do av/ay with the 
effect of it, the plaintiff offered the cashier as a witness. 
Not a single question was asked on cross-examination; but 
a smile of derision, which was accompanied by a foreordain- 



]^38 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

ed titter behind the bar, was visible on the faces of Simon 
and his client, as he testified. The defendant then offered 
a dozen or more witnesses, who, much to the surprise of the 
venerable cashier, discredited him; and the jury, without 
leaving the box, found a verdict for the defendant. The 
cashier was about moving for a new trial, when, it being 
intimated to him that a warrant was about to be issued for 
his apprehension on a charge of perjury, he concluded not to 
see the result of such a process, and indignantly left the 
country. 

The criminal practice, especially, fascinated the regards 
and engaged the attention of Col. Suggs, as a department of 
his profession and energies. He soon became acquainted 
v/ith all the arts and contrivances by which public justice is 
circumvented. Indictments that could not be quashed, were 
sometimes mysteriously out of the way; and the clerk had 
occasion to reproach his carelessness in not filing them in the 
proper places, when, some days after cases had been dis- 
missed for the want of them, they were discovered by him in 
some old file, or among the executions. He was requested, 
or rather he volunteered in one capital case, to draw a re- 
cognizance for a committing magisttrate, as he (Suggs) was 
idly looking on, not being concerned in the trial, and so 
felicitously did he happen to introduce the negative particle 
in the condition of the bond, that he bound the defendant, 
under a heavy penalty, " not " to appear at court and an- 
swer to the charge; which appearance, doubtless, much 
against his will, and merely to save his sureties, the defend- 
ant proceeded faithfully not to make. 



SIMOX SUGGS. JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. J 39 

Col. Suggs also extricated a client and his sureties from 
a forfeited recognizance, by having the defaulting defend- 
ant's obituary notice somewhat prematurely inserted in the 
newspapers; the solicitor, seeing which, discontinued pro- 
ceedings; for which service, the deceased, immediately after 
the adjournment of court, returned to the officer his personal 
acknowledgments: "not that," as he expressed it, "it mat- 
tered any thing to him personally, but because it would have 
aggravated the feelings of his friends he had left behind 
him, to of let the thing rip arter he was defunck." 

The most difficult case Col. Suggs ever had to manage, 
was to extricate a client from jail, after sentence of death 
had been passed upon him. But difficulties, so far from 
discou/raging him, only had the effect of stimulating his 
energies. He procured the aid of a young physician in the 
premises — the prisoner was suddenly taken ill — the physician 
pronounced the disease small pox. The wife of the pris- 
oner, with true womanly devotion, attended on him. The 
prisoner, after a few a days, was reported dead, and the 
doctoir gave out that it would be dangerous to approach the 
corpse. A coffin was brought into the jail, and the wife was 
put into it by the physician — she being enveloped in her 
husband's clothes. The coffin was put in a cart and driven 
off— the husband, habited in the woman's apparel, following 
after, mourning piteously, until, getting out of the village, he 
disappeared in the thicket, where he found a horse prepared 
for him. The wife obstinately refused to be buried in the 
husband's place when she got to the gjrave; but the mis- 



140 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

take was discovered too late for the recapture of the 
prisoner. 

The tact and address of Col. Suggs opposed such obsta- 
cles to the enforcement of the criminal law in that part of 
the country, that, following the example of the English gov- 
ernment, when Irish patriotism begins to create annoyances, 
the State naturally felt anxious to engage his services in its 
behalf. Accordingly, at the meeting of the Arkansas leg- 
islaturef, at its session of 184 — , so soon as the matter of 
the killing a member on the floor of the house, by the 
speaker, with a Bowie knife, was disposed of by a reso- 
lution of mild censure, for imprudent precipitancy, Simon 
Suggs, Jr., Esquire, was elected solicitor for the Racken- 
sack district. Col. Suggs brought to the discharge of the 
duties of his office energies as unimpaired and vigorous as in 
the days of his first practice; and entered upon it with a 
mind free from the vexations of domestic cares, having pro- 
cured a divorce from his wife on the ground of infidelity, 
but magnanimously giving her one of the negroes, and a horse, 
saddle and bridle. 

The business of the State now flourished beyond all pre- 
cedent. Indictments multiplied: and though many of them 
were not tried — the solicitor discovering, after the finding 
of them, as he honestly confessed to the court, that the evi- 
dence v/ould not support them: yet, the Colonel could well 
say, with an eminent English barrister, that if he tried few- 
er cases in court, he settled more cases out of court than any 
other counsel. 



SIMON SUGGS, JR., ESQ., A LEGAL BIOGRAPHY. 141 

The marriage of Col. Suggs, some three years after his 
appointment of solicitor, with the lovely and accomplished 
Che-wee-na-tubbe, daughter of a distinguished prophet and 
war/rior, and head-man of the neighboring territory of the 
Choctaw Indians, induced his removal into that beautiful and 
improving country. His talents and connections at once 
raised him to the councils of that interesting people; and 
he received the appointment of agent for the settlement of 
claims on the part of that tribe, and particular individuals 
of it, upon the treasury of the United States. This respon- 
sible and lucrative office now engages the time and talents 
of Col. Suggs, who may be seen every winteir at Washington, 
faithfully and laboriously engaged with members of Congress 
and in the departments, urging the matters of his mission 
upon the dull sense of the Janitors of the Federal Treasury. 
May his shadow never grow less; and may the Indians 
live to get their dividends of the arrears paid to their agent. 



42 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



SQUIRE A. AND THE FRITTERS. 

Now, in the times we write of, the flourishing village of 
M. was in its infancy. She had not dreamed of the great 
things in store for her when she should have reached her teens, 
and railroad cars crowded with visitors, should make her the 
helle-village of all the surrounding country. A few log houses 
hastily erected and overcrowded with inmates, alone were to be 
seen; nor did the inn, either in the order or style of its architec- 
ture, or in the beauty or comfort of its interior arrangements 
and accommodations, differ fiom the other and less public ed- 
ifices about her. In sober truth, it must be confessed that, 
like the great man after Y.liom she was named, the promise 
of her youth was by no means equal to the respectability of 
her more advanced age. It was the season of the year most 
unpropitious to the development of the resources of the 
landlord and the skill of the cook. Fall had set in, and flour 
made cakes were not set out. Wheat was not then an arti- 
cle of home growth, and supplies of flour were only to be 
got from Mobile, and not from thence, unless the Tombig- 
bee river was up; so, for a long time, the boarders and 
guests of the tavern had to rough it on corn dodger, as it 



SQUIRE A. AND THE FRITTERS. 143 

was called, greatly to their discontent. At length the joyful 
tidings were proclaimed, that a barrel of flour had come from 
Mobile. Much excitement prevailed. An animated discus- 
sion arose as to the form in which the new aliment should be 
seu'ved up; and on the motion of A., who eloquently second- 
ed his own resolution, it was determined that Fritters should 
be had for supper that night. Supper time dragged its slow 
length along: it came, however, at last. 

There were a good many boarders at the Inn — some 
twenty or more — and but one negro waiteir, except a servant 
of J. T., whom he kept about him, and vv-ho waited at table. 
Now, if Squire A. had any particular weakness, it was in fa- 
vor of fritters. Fritters were a great favorite, even per se; 
but in the dearth of edibles, they were most especially so. 
He had a way of eating them with molasses, which gave 
them a irare and delectable relish. Accordingly, seating him- 
self the first at the table, and taking a position next the door 
nearest to the kitchen, he prepared himself for the onslaught. 
He ordered a soup-plate and filled it half full of molasses — 
tucked up his sleeves — brought the public towel from the 
roller in the porch, and fixed it before him at the neck, so 
as to protect his whole bust— and stood as ready as the jolly 
Abbot over the haunch of venison, at the widow Glendin- 
ning's, to do full justice to the pirovant, when announced. 

Now, A. had a distinguished reputation and immense skill 
in the art and mystery of fritter eating. How many he could 
eat at a meal I forget, if I ever heard him say, but I should 
say — making allowances for exaggeration in such things — from 



144 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

the various estimates I have heard, well on to the matter 
of a bushel — possibly a half a peck or so, more or less. 
When right brown and reeking with fresh fat, it would take as 
many persons to feed him as a carding-machine. Sam Hark- 
ness used to say, that if a wick were run down his throat af- 
ter a fritter dinner, and lit, it would burn a week — but I don't 
believe that. 

He used no implement in eating but a fork. He passed 
the fork through the fritter in such a way as to break its 
back, and double it up in the form of the letter W, and press- 
ing it through and closing up the lines, would flourish it 
around in the molasses two or three times, and then convey 
it, whole, to his mouth — drawing the fork out with a sort of 
c-h-u-g. 

If A. ever intended to have his daguerreotype taken — 
that was the time — for a more hopeful, complacent, benevo- 
lent cast of countenance, I never saw than his, when the 
door being left a little ajar, the cook could be seen in the 
kitchen, making time about the skillet, and the fat was heard 
cheerfully spitting and spattering in the pan. 

''But pleasures are like poppies spread," and so forth. 
As when some guileless cock-robin is innocently regaling 
himself in the chase of a rainbow spangled butterfly, pois- 
ing himself on wing, and in the very act of conveying the 
gay insect to his expectant spouse for domestic use, some ill- 
omened vulture, seated in solitary state on a tree hard by, 
unfurls his wing, and swoops in fell destruction upon the 
hapless warbler, leaving nothing of this scene of peace and 



SQUIRE A. AND THE FRITTERS. 145 

innocence but a smothered cry and a string of feathers. So 
did J. T. look upon this scene of Squire A.'s expectant and 
hopeful countenance with a like and kindred malignity and 
fell purpose. In plain prose, — ^confederating and conspir- 
ing with three other masterful fritter eaters and Sandy, the 
amateur waiter at the Inn, it was agreed that Sandy should 
station himself at the door, and, as the waiting-girl came in 
with the fritters, he should receive the plate, and convey 
the same to the other confederates for their special behoof, 
to the entire neglect of the claim of Squire A. in the pre- 
mises. 

Accordingly the girl brought in the first plate — which 
was received by Sandy — Sandy brought the plate on with 
stately step close by Squire A. — the Squire's fork was raised 
to transfix at least six of the smoking cakes with a contin- 
gency of sweeping the whole platter; but the wary Sandy 
raised the plate high in air, nor heeded he the Squire's ca- 
joling tones — " Here, Sandy, here, this way, Sandy." Again 
the plate went and came, but vv'ith no better success to the 
Squire. Sandy came past a third time — " I say, Sandy, this 
way — this way — come Sandy — come now — do — I'll remem- 
ber you;" — but Sandy walked on like the Queen of the West 
unheeding; the Squire threw himself back in his chair and 
looked in the puddle of molasses in his plate sourly enough 
to have fermented it. Again — again— again and yet again 
—the plate passed on — the fritters getting browner and 
browner, and distance lending enchantment to the view: but 
the Squire couldn't get a showing. The Squire began to be 



146 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

peremptory, and thireatened Sandy with all sorts of exter- 
mination for his contumacy; but the intrepid servitor passed 
along as if he had been deaf and dumb, and his only busi- 
ness to carry fritters to the other end of the table. At 
length Sandy came back with an empty plate, and reported 
that the fritters were all out. The Squire could con- 
tain himself no longer — unharnessing himself of the towel 
and striking his fist on the table, upsetting thereby about a 
pint of molasses from his plate, he exclaimed in tones of 
thunder, "I'll quit this dratted house: I'll be eternally and 
constitutionally dad blamed, if I stand such infernal partial- 
ity!" and rushed out of the house into the porch where he 
met J. T., who, coolly picking his teeth, asked the Squire 
how he "liked the fritters?" We need not give the reply 
— as all that matter was afterwairds honourably settled by a 
board of honor. 



JONATHAN AND THE CONSTABLE. 147 



JONATHAN AND THE CONSTABLE. 

Now, brother Jonathan was a distinguished member of 
the fraternity, and had maintained a leading position in the 
profession for many years, ever since, indeed, he had mi- 
grated from the land of steady habits. His masculine sense, 
acuteness and shrewdness, were relieved and mellowed by 
fine social habits and an original and genial humor, more 
grateful because coming from an exterior something rigid 
and inflexible. He had — and we hope we may be able to 
say so for thirty years yet — a remarkably acute and quick 
sense of the ridiculous, and, like other humorists, is much 
fonder of turning on their friends their own batteries than of 
exposing a full front to them himself. Some fifty-five years 
have passed over his head, but he is one of those evergreen 
or never-green plants upon which time makes but little 
impiression. He has his whims and prejudices, and, being 
an elder of the Presbyterian church, he is especially 
annoyed by a drunken man. 

It so happened that a certain Ned Ellett was pretty high, 
as v/ell in office as in liquor, one drizzly winter evening — 
during the session of the S. Circuit Court. He had taken 



148 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

in charge one Nash, a horse-thief, and also a tickler of rye 
whiskey; and this double duty coming upon him some- 
what unexpectedly, was more than he could well sustain 
himself under. The task of discharging the prisoner over, 
Ned was sitting by the fire in the hall of the Choctaw 
House, in deep meditation upon the mutations in human af- 
fairs, when he received a summons from Jonathan, to come 
to his room, for the purpose of Teceiving a letter to be car- 
ried to a client in the part of the county in which Ned re- 
sided. It was about ten o'clock at night. Jonathan and I 
occupied the same room and bed on the ground-floor of the 
building, and I had retired for the night. 

Presently Ned came in, and took his seat by the fire. 
The spirits, by this time, began to produce their usual effects. 
Ned was habited in a green blanket over-coat, into which the 
rain had soaked, and the action of the fire on it raised a con- 
siderable fog. Ned was a raw-boned, rough-looking cus- 
tomer, about six feet high and weighing about two hundred 
net — clothes, liqour, beard and all, about three hundred. 
After Jonathan had given him the letter, and Ned had criti- 
cally examined the superscription, (remarking something 
about the handwriting, which, sooth to say, was not copy- 
plate — he put it in his hat, and Jonathan asked him some 
question about his errand to L. 

"Why, Squire," said Ned, "you see I had to take Nash 
— Nash had been stealing of bosses, and I had a warrant 
for him and took him — Blass, Nash is the smartest feller 
you ever see. He knows about most every thing and every- 



JONATHAN AND THE CONSTABLE. 149 

body. He knows all the lawyers, Blass — I tell you he does, 
and no mistake. He was the merriest, jovialest feller you 
ever see, and can sing more chronicle songs than one of these 
show fellers that comes round with the suckus. He didn't 
seem to mind bein took than a pet sheep. I tell you he 
didn't, Blass — and when I tell you a thing, Blass, you bet- 
ter had believe it, you had. Blass, did you ever hear of 
my telling a lie? No, not by a jug-full. Blass, aint I an 
hones' man? (Yes, said B., I guess you are.) — ''Guess- 
Guess — 1 say guess. Well, as I was a saying, about Nash 
— I asked Nash, what he was doin perusin about the coun- 
try, and Nash said he was just perusin about the country to 
see the climit? But I know'd Harvey Thompson wouldn't 
like me to be bringin a prisoner in loose, so I put the strings 
on Nash, and then his feathers drapped, and then Blass, he 
got to crying — and, Blass, he told me — (blubbering) he told 

me about his old mother in Tennessee, and how her 

heart would be broke, and all that — and, Blass, I'm a hard 
man and my feelings aint easy teched — but (here Ned boohoo'd 
right out,) Blass, I'll be if I can bar to see a man ex- 
hausted." 

Ned drew his coat-sleeve over his eyes, blew his nose, 
and snapped his fingers over the fire and proceeded: "Blass, 
he asked about you and Lewis Scott, and what for a lawyer 
you v/as, and I'll tell you jest what I told him, Blass, says I 
old Blass, v/hen it comes to hard law, Nash, knows about all 
the law they is — but whether he kin norate it from the stump 
or not, that's the question. Blass, shov/ me down some of these 



150 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

pairs of stairs. [They were on the ground-floor, but Ned, no 
doubt, was entitled to think himself high.] — B. showed him 
out. 

All this time I was possuming sleep in the bed as inno- 
cent as a lamb. Blass came to the bedside and looked in- 
quisitively on for a moment, and went to disrobing himself. 
All I could hear was a short soliloquy — " well, doesn't that 
beat all? It's one comfort, J. didn't hear that — I never 
would have heard the last of it. It's most too good to be 
lost. I believe I'll lay it on him." 

I got up in the morning, and as I was drawing on my 
left boot, muttered as if to myself, " but whither he kin nor- 
ate it from the stump — that's the question." B. turned his 
head so suddenly — he was shaving, sitting on a trunk — that 
he came near cutting his nose off. 

'•' You doesn't mean to say you eaves-dropped and heard 
that drunken fool — do you? Remember, young man, that 
what you hear said to a lawyer in conference is confidential, 
and don't get to making an ass of yourself, by blabbing this 
thing all over town." I told him " I thought I should have 
to norate it a little." 



SHARP FINANCIERING. 151 



SHARP FINANCIERING. 

In the times of 1836, there dwelt in the pleasant town of 
T. a smooth oily-mannered gentleman, who diversified a com- 
monplace pursuit by some exciting episodes of finance — deal- 
ing occasionally in exchange, buying and selling uncur- 
rent money, &c. We will suppose this gentleman's name to 
be Thompson. It happened that a Mr. Ripley of North Ca- 
rolina, was in T., having some $1200, in North Carolina 
money, and desiring to return to the old North State with 
his funds, not wishing to encounter the risk of robbery 
through the Creek country, in which there were rumors of 
hostilities between the whites and the Indians, he bethought 
him of buying exchange on Raleigh, as the safest mode of 
transmitting his money. On inquiry he was referred to Mr. 
Thompson, as the only person dealing in exchange in that 
place. He called on Mr. T. and made known his wishes. 
With his characteristic politeness, Mr. Thompson agreed to 
accommodate him with a sight bill on his correspondent in 
Raleigh, charging him the moderate premium of five per cent, 
for it. Mr. Thompson retired into his counting-room, and 



152 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA., 

in a few minutes returned with the bill and a letter, which 
he delivered to Mr. Ripley, at the same time receiving the 
money from that gentleman plus the exchange. As the in- 
terlocutors were exchanging valedictory compliments, it oc- 
curred to Mr. Thompson that it would be a favor to him if 
Mr. Ripley would be so kind as to convey to Mr. T.'s corres- 
pondent a package he was desirious of sending, which request 
Mr. Ripley assured Mr. T. it would afford him great pleasure 
to comply with. Mr. Thompson then handed Mr. Ripley a 
package, strongly enveloped and sealed, addressed to the 
Raleigh Banker, after which the gentlemen parted with many 
polite expressions of regard and civility. 

Arriving without any accident or hindrance at Raleigh, Mr. 
Ripley's first care was to call on the Banker and present his 
documents. He found him at his ofnce, presented the bill 
and letter to him, and requested payment of the former. That, 
said the Banker, will depend a good deal upon the contents 
of the package. Opening which, Mr. Riplely found the iden- 
tical bills, minus the premium, he had paid Mr. T. for his 
bill: and which the Banker paid over to that gentleman, 
who was not a little surprised to find that the expert Mr. 
Thompson had charged him five per cent, for carrying his 
own money to Raleigh, to avoid the risk and trouble of which 
he had bought the exchange. 

T. used to remark that that was the safest operation, all 
around, he ever knew. He had got his exchange — the buyer 
had got his bill and the money, too, — and the drawee was 
fully protected! There was profit without outlay or risk. 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 153 



CAVE BUETON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 

Prominent among the lawyers that had gathered into 
the new country, was Cave Burton. Cave was a man of 
mark: not very profoundly versed in the black letter, but 
adapting, or, more properly, applying his talents to the slang- 
whanging departments of the profession. He went in for gab. 
A court he could not see the use of — the jury was the thing 
for him. And he was for " jurying " every thing, and allowing 
the jury — the apostolic twelve as he was wont to call them 
— a very free exercise of their privileges, uncramped by any 
impertinent interference of the court. Cave thought the 
judge an aristocratic institution, but the jury was republic- 
anism in action. He liked a free swing at them. He had 
no idea of being interrupted on presumed misstatements, or 
out-of-the-record revelations: he liked to be communicative 
when he was speaking to them, and was not stingy with any 
little scraps of gossip, or hearsay, or neighborhood reports, 
which he had been able to pick up concerning the matter in 
hand or the parties. He was fond, too, of giving his private 
experiences — as if he were at a love-feast — and was profuse 



X54 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

of personal assurances and solemn asseverations of personal 
belief or knowledge of fact and of law. He claimed Ken- 
tucky for his native State, and for a reason that will suggest 
itself at once, was called by the bar the Blowing Cave. 
Cave had evidently invoiced himself very high when he came 
out, thinking rather of the specific than the ad valorem 
standard. He had, to hear him tell it, renounced so many 
advantages, and made such sacrifices, for the happy privilege 
of getting to the backwoods, that the people, out of sheer 
gratitude, should have set great store by so rare an article 
brought out at such cost: — but they didn't do it. He had 
brought his wares to the wrong market. The market was 
glutted with brass. And although that metal was indispen- 
sable, yet it was valuable only for plating. Burton was the 
pure metal all through. He might have been moulded at a 
brass foundry. He had not much intellect, but what he had 
he kept going with a wonderful clatter. Indeed, with his 
habits and ignorance, it were better not to have had more, 
unless he had a great deal; for his chief capital was an un- 
consciousness of how ridiculous he was making himself, and 
a total blindness as to the merits of his case, which protected 
him, as a somnambulist is protected from falling, by being 
unconscious of danger. He was just as good on a bad cause 
as on a good one, and just as bad on a good side 
as on a bad one. The first intimation he had of how a case 
ought to go, was on seeing how it had gone. Discrimination 
was not his forte. Indeed, accuracy of any kind was not his 
forte. He lumbered away lustily, very well content if he 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 155 

were in the neighborhood of a fact or proposition, without 
seeming to expect to be at the precise point. He had a good 
deal of that sort of wit which comes of a bold, dashing au- 
dacity, without fear or care; such wit as a man has who lets 
his tongue swing free of all control of judgment, memory, or 
taste, or conscience. He scattered like an old shot-gun, and 
occasionally, as he was always firing, some of the shot would 
hit. 

A large, red-faced, burly fellow, good-natured and un- 
scrupulous, with a good run of anecdote and natural humor, 
and some power of narrative, was Cave, — a monstrous dem- 
agogue withal, and a free and easy sort of creature, who liv- 
ed as if he expected to-day were all the time he had to live 
in: and who considered the business of the day over when 
he had got his three meals with intermediate drinks. 

I cannot say Burton was a liar. I never knew him to 
fabricate a lie "out and out" — outside of the bar; — his in- 
vention was hardly sufficient for that. In one sense, his 
regard for truth was considerable — indeed, so great that he 
spent most of his conversation in embellishing it. It was a 
sponging habit he had of building on other men's founda- 
tions; but having got a start in this way, it is wonderful 
how he laid on his own work. 

Cave, like almost every other demagogue I ever knew, 
was "considerable" in all animal appetites: he could dis- 
pose of the provant in a way Capt. Dalgetty would have ad- 
mired, and, like the Captain, he was not very nice as to the 
kind or quality of the viands; or, rather, he had a happy 



156 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

faculty of making up in quantity what was lacking in quality. 
I don't think he ever rose from a table satisfied, though he 
often rose surfeited. You might founder him before you 
could subdue his appetite. He was as good in liquids as in 
solids. He never refused a drink: the parable of neglected 
invitations would have had no application to him if he had 
lived in those times. You might wake him up at midnight 
to take something hot or cold, edible or liquor, and he would 
take his full allowance, and smack his lips for more. He 
could scent out a frolic like a raven a carcass — by a separate 
instinct. He always fell in just in time. He was not a 
sponge. He would as soon treat as be treated, if he had 
any thing — as under the credit system he had — to treat 
with; but the main thing was the provant, and loafing was 
one of his auxiliaries. He had a clamorous garrison in his 
bowels that seemed to be always in a state of siege, and 
boisterous for supplies. Cave's idea of money was connected 
inseparably with bread and meat and "sperits:" money 
was not the representative of value in his political economy, 
but the representative of breakfast, dinner, supper and 
liquor. He was never really pathetic, though always trying 
it, until he came to describing, in defending against a pro- 
missory note, the horrors of want, that is, of hunger — then 
he really ivas touching, for he was earnest, and he shed 
tears like a watering pot. He reckoned every calamity by 
the standard of the stomach. If a man lost money, he con- 
sidered it a diversion of so much from the natural aliment. 
If he lost his health, so much was discounted from life 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 157 

that is, from good living: if he died, death had stopped his 
rations. Cave had a mean idea of war, and never voted for 
a military man in his life. It wasted too much of the fruits 
of the earth. An account of a campaign never excited his 
horror, until the fasting of the soldiers and the burning of 
the supplies was treated of — then he felt it like a nightmare. 
Cave had a small opinion of clothes; they were but a shal- 
low, surface mode of treating the great problem, man. He 
went deeper; he was for providing for the inner man — 
though his idea of human nature never went beyond the 
entrails. Studying human nature with him was anatomy 
and physic, and testing the capacity of the body for feats of 
the knife and fork. A great man with him was not so much 
shown by what he could do, as by what he could hold; not 
by what he left, but by what he consumed. 

Cave's mind was in some doubt as to things in which the 
majority of men are agreed. For example, he was not satis- 
fied that Esau made as foolish a bargain with his brother 
Jacob as some think. Before committing himself, he should 
like to taste the pottage, and see some estimate of the net 
value of the birthright in the beef and venison market. If 
the birthright were a mere matter of pride and precedence, 
Cave was not sure that Esau had not " sold " the father of 
Israel. 

If Cave had had a hundred thousand dollars, he would 
have laid it all out in provisions; for 7i07i constat there 
might be no more made; at any rate, he would have enough 
to answer all the ends and aims of life, which are to eat and 
drink as much as possible. 



158 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

Cave attended the Episcopal church every Sunday when 
there was service — i. e. once a month, and, though his atten- 
tion was a little drowsy during most of the services, yet he 
brightened up mightily when the preacher read the prayer 
against famine, and for preserving the kindly fruits of the 
earth to be enjoyed in due season. 

Cave was some forty-five years of age at the time I am 
writing of: — so long had he warred on the pantry. 

He was an active man, indeed some part of him was al- 
ways going — jaws, tongue, hands or legs, and to a more lim- 
ited extent, brains. He never was idle. Indeed, taking in 
such fuel, he couldn't well help going. Even in sleep he 
was not quiet. Such fighting with unknown enemies — pro- 
bably the ghosts of the animals he had consumed; — such 
awful contortions of countenance, and screams — and, when 
most quiet, such snorings (he once set a passenger running 
down stairs with his trunk, thinking it was the steamboat 
coming), you, possibly, never heard. I slept with him one 
night (I blush to tell it) on the circuit, and he seemed to be 
in spasms, going off at last into a suppressed rattle in the 
throat: I thought he was dying, and after some trouble, woke 
him. He opened his eyes, and rolled them around, like a 
goose egg on an axle. " Cave," said I, " Cave — can I do 
any thing for you?" 

" Yes," was his ansYrer. " Look in my saddle-bags, and 
get me a black bottle of ' red-eye.' " 

I got it; he drank almost a half pint, and went to sleep 
like a child that has just received its nouishment. 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 159 

Burton had largely stored his memory with all manner 
of slang-phrases and odd expressions, whereby he gave his 
speech a relish of variety somewhat at the expense of classic 
purity. Indeed, his mind seemed to be a sort of water-gate 
which caught and retained the foam and trash, but let the 
main stream pass through. 

But, as honest Bunyan hath it, we detain the reader too 
long in the porch. 

In the Christmas week of the year of Grace, 1838, some 
of us were preparing to celebrate that jovial time by a social 
gathering at Dick Bowling's office. There were about a 
dozen of us, as fun-loving ' youth,' as since the old frolics at 
Cheapside or the Boar's Head, ever met together, the judge 
and the State's attorney among them. The boats had just 
got up, on their first trip, from Mobile, and had brought, 
on a special order Dick had given, three barrels of oysters, 
a demijohn of Irish whiskey, and a box of lemons. Those 
were not the clays of invitations: a lawyer's office, night or 
day, was as public a place as the court-house, and, among the 
members of the bar at that early period, there were no priv- 
ileged seats at a frolic any more than in the pit of a theatre. 
All came who chose. Old Judge Sawbridge, who could tell 
from smelling a cork the very region whence the liquor came, 
and could, by looking into the neck of the bottle, tell the 
age as well as a jockey could the age of a horse by looking 
into his mouth, was there before the bells had rung for the 
tavern supper. Several of the rest were in before long. 
Burton had not come yet. The old Judge suggested a trick, 



160 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

which was to get Burton to telling one of his Kentucky yarns 
and, as he was in the agony of it, to withdraw, one by one. 
and eat up all the oysters. We agreed to try it, but doubt- 
ed very much the success of the experiment; although the 
Judge seemed to be sanguine. 

Dropping in, one by one, at last all came, filling the room 
pretty well. Among them was Cave. That domestic bereave- 
ment which had kept him from such a gathering, were a sad 
one. He entered the room in high feather. He was in fine 
spirits, ardent and animal. If he had been going, twenty 
years before, to a trysting-place, he could not have been in 
a gayer frame of mind. He came prepared. He had ravish- 
ed himself from the supper table, scarcely eating any thing 
— three or four cups of coffee, emptying the cream pitcher of 
its sky-blue milk, a card of spare-ribs and one or two feet of 
stuffed sausages, or some such matter; a light condiment of 
" cracklin bread," and a half pint of hog-brains thrown in just 
by way of parenthesis. He merely took in these trifles by 
way of sandwich, to provoke his appetite for the main exer- 
cises of the evening. When he came in the fire was booming 
and crackling — a half cord of hickory having been piled upon 
the broad hearth. The night was cold, clear, and frosty. 

The back room adjoining was as busy as a barracks, in 
the culinary preparations. The oysters, like our clients, 
were being forced, with characteristic reluctance, to shell out. 
And as the knife went tip, tip, tip, on the shell's Cave's 
mouth watered like the bivalve's, as he caught the sound — 
more delicious music to his ears than Jenny Lind and the 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. KJl 

whole Italian troupe could give out. His spirits rose in this 
congenial atmosphere like the spirits in a barometer. He 
was soon in a gale, as if he had been taking laughing gas. 
Now Cave was as fond of oysters as a seal. A regiment of 
such men on the sea-shore, or near the oyster banks, would 
have exterminated the species in a season. The act against 
the destruction of the oyster ought to have embraced Cave 
in a special clause of interdiction from their use. He used 
to boast that he and D. L. had never failed to break an oys- 
ter cellar in Tuscaloosa whenever they made a run on it. 

Judge Sawbridge made a pass at him as soon almost as 
he was seated. He commenced by inquiring after some 
Kentucky celebrities — Crittenden, Hardin, Wickliffe, &c., 
v/hom he found intimate friends of Cave; and then he asked 
Cave to tell him the anecdote he had heard repeated, but not 
in its particulars, of the Earthquake-story. He led up to 
Cave's strong suit: for if there was one thing that Cave liked 
better than every thing else, eating' and drinking excepted, it 
was telling a story; and if he liked telling any one story bet- 
ter than any other, it was the Earthquake-story. This story 
was, like Frank Plummer's speech on the Wiscasset collector- 
ship, interminable; and, like Frank's speech, the principal 
part of it bore no imaginable relation to the ostensible sub- 
ject. No mortal man had ever heard the end of this story: 
like Coleridge's soliloquies, it branched out with innumerable 
suggestions, each in its turn the parent of others, and these 
again breeding a new spawn, so that the further he travelled 
the less he went on. Like Kit Kunker's dog howling after 



163 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

the singing master and getting tangled up in the time, the 
denouement was lost in the episodes. V/hat the story was 
originally, could not be conjectured; for Cave had gone 
over the ground so often, that the first and many subsequent 
traces were rubbed out by later footprints. Cave, however, 
refreshing himself with about a pint of hot-stuff, rose, 
turned his back to the fire, and, parting his coat-tail, and 
squatting two or three times as was his wont when in the act 
of speaking, began 

The Earthquake-story. 

We can only give it in our way, and only such parts as 
we can remember, leaving out most of the episodes, the cas- 
ual explanations and the slang; which is almost the play of 
Hamlet with the Prinec of Denmark omitted. But, thus 
emasculated, and Cave's gas let off, here goes a report about 
as faithful as a Congressman's report of his spoken eloquence 
when nobody was listening in the House. 



" Well, Judge, the thing happened in 1834, in Steuben- 
ville, Kentucky, where I was raised. I and Ben Hardin 
were prosecuting the great suit, which probably you have 
heard of, Susan Beeler vs. Samuel Whistler, for breach of 
promise of marriage. The trial came on, and the court-house 
was crowded. Every body turned out, men, women, and 
children; for it was understood I was to close the argument 
in reply to Tom Marshall and Bob Wickliffe. I had been 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. Ig3 

speaking about three hours and a half, and had just got to 
my full speed — the genius licks were falling pretty heavy. 
It was an aggravated case. Susan, her mother and three 
sisters were crying like babies; her old father, the preacher, 
was taking on too, pretty solemn; and the women generally 
were going it pretty strong on the briny line. The court-house 
was as solemn as a camp-meeting when they are calling up the 
mourners. I had been giving them a rousing, soul-searching 
appeal on the moral question, and had been stirring up their 
consciences with a long pole. I had touched them a little 
on the feelings — ' affections ' — ' broken-hearts ' — ' pining 
away ' — 'patience on a monument,' and so forth; but I hadn't 
probed them deep on these tender points. It isn't the right way 
to throw them into spasms of emotion: reaction is apt to come. 
Ben Hardin cautioned me against this. Says Ben, ' Cave, 
tap them gently and milk them of their brine easy. Let the 
pathetics sink into 'em like a spring shower.' I saw the 
sense of it and took the hint. I led them gently along, not 
drawing more than a tear a minute or so: and when I saw 
their mouths opening with mine, as I went on, and their eyes 
following mine, and winking as I winked, I would put it down 
a little stronger by way of a clincher. [Hello, Dick, ain't 
they nearly all opened? I believe I would take a few raw 
by way of relish."] 

*'No," Dick said: "they would be ready after a while." 
Here Cave took another drink of the punch and proceeded. 

" I say — old Van Tromp Ramkat was Judge. You 
knew old Ramkat, Judge — didn't you? No? Well, you 



164 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

ought to have known him. He was the bloodiest tryant 
alive. I reckon the old cuss has fined me not less than 
$500." 

Sawhridge. — " What for, Cave?" 

" Why, for contempt at ten dollars a clip — that was old 
Ramkat's tariff; and if every other man had been fined the 
same for contempt of Van Tromp, the fines would pay off 
the national debt. Old Ram had a crazy fit for fining per- 
sons. He thought he owed it to the people to pay off all 
the expenses of the judicial system by fines. He was at it 
all the time. His fines against the sheriff and clerk amount- 
ed to not less than ten per cent, on their salaries. If a court 
passed without fining somebody for contempt, he thought it 
was a failure of court, and he called a special term. Every 
thing was a contempt: a lawyer couldn't go out of court 
without asking leave; and the lawyers proposed, at a bar- 
meeting, to set a shingle and write on one side of it " In," 
and on the other " Out," like an old-field school. He fined 
Tid Stiffness for refusing to testify in a gambling case $10; 
and then asked him again in the politest and most obsequious 
tones — if he hadn't better testify? Tid, thinking it a mat- 
ter of choice, said ' No.' Old Ram nodded to the clerk, who 
set Tid down for another five. Ram got still more polite, 
and suggested the question again — and kept on till lie tid 
him up to $250; and then told him what he had done, and 
then adjourned the case over, with Tid in custody, till next 
morning. Tid came into measures when the case was called, 
and agreed to testify, and wanted old Van to let him off 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 165 

with the fines; but Ram wouldn't hear to it. The clerk, 
however, suggested that, on looking over the tallies, he found 
he had scored him down twice on one bid. Ram remarked 
that, as there seemed to be some question about it, and as 
Tid had been a good customer, he would split the difference 
with him and deduct a V; and then, in order to make the 
change even, he fined old Taxcross, the clerk, five dollars for 
not making up the entry right; but to let it come light on him, 
as he had a large family, allowed him to make it off of Tid 
by making separate entries of the fines — thus swelling his 
fees. 

" Oh, I tell you, old Ramkat was the bloodiest tyrant 
this side of France. I reckon that old cuss has cheated my 
clients out of half a million of dollars, by arbitrarily and offi- 
ciously interfering to tell the juries the law, v/hen I had got 
them all with me on the facts. There v/as no doing any thing 
witli him. He would lay the law down so positive, that he 
could instruct a jury out of a stock, — a little, bald-headed, 
high-heel-booted, hen-pecked son of thunder! Fining and 
sending to the penitentiary were the chief delights of his in- 
significant life. Did not the little villain once say. In open 
court, that the finding of a bill of indictment was a half con- 
viction, and it ought to be law that the defendant ought to 
be convicted if he couldn't get a unanimous verdict from the 
petty jury? Why, Judge, he convicted a client of mine for 
stealing a calf. I proved that the fellow v/as poor and had 
nothing to eat, and stole it in self defence of his life. 
'Twouldn't do: he convicted him, or made the jury do it. 



IQQ- SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

And old Ram told tlie fellow he should sentence him for 
five years. I plead with him to reduce the time. The boy's 
father was in court, and was weeping: I wept — even old 
Ramkat boohoo'd outright. I thought I had him this time; 
but what did he do? Says he, 'Young man, your vile con- 
duct has done so much wrong, given your worthy father so 
much pain, and given your eloquent counsel so much pain, 
and this court so much pain — I really must enlarge your 
time to TEN years.' And for stealing a calf! Egad, if I 
was starving, I'd steal a calf — yes, if I had been in Noah's 
ark and the critter was the seed calf of the world! [I say, 
where is Dick Bowling? Them oysters certainly must be 
ready by this time; — it seems to me I've smelt them for the 
last half hour."] 

"No," the judge told him; "the oysters were not ready — 
they were stewing a big tureen full at once." 

Cave called for crackers and butter, and, through the 
course of the evening, just in a coquetting way, disposed of 
about half a tray full of dough, and half a pound of Goshen 
butter. 

The reader will understand that during the progress of 
this oration, though at different times, the members with- 
drew to the back room and ' oystered.' 

"Well, but," said Tom Cottle— " about the earthquake?" 

" Yes — true — exactly — just so — my mind is so disturbed 
by the idea that those oysters will be stewed out of all flavor, 
that I ramble. Where was I? Yes, I recollect now. I 
was commenting on Tom Marshall's attack on Molly Mug- 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 1(^7 

gin's testimony. Moll was our main witness. She was an 
Irish servant girl, and had peeped through the key-hole of 
the parlor door, and seen the breach of promise going on 
upon the sofa. Well, I was speaking of Ireland, Emmet, 
Curran and so on, and I had my arm stretched out, and the 
jury were agape — old Ramkat leaning over the bench — and 
the crowd as still as death. When, what should happen? 
Such a clatter and noise above stairs, as if the whole build- 
ing were tumbling down. It seems that a jury was hung, 
up stairs, in the second story — six and six — a dead lock, on 
a case of Jim Snipes vs. Jerry Legg for a bull yearling; 
all Nubbin Fork was in excitement about it; forty wit- 
nesses on a side, not including impeaching and sustaining 
witnesses. The sheriff had just summoned the witnesses 
from the muster-roll at random; fourteen swore one way, 
and twenty-four the other, as to identity and ownership; and 
it turned out the calf belonged to neither; there was more 
perjury than would pale the lower regions to white heat to 
hear it. One witness swore " — 

Sawlridge. — " But, Cave, about the case you were 
trying." 

Cave. — " Yes — about that. Well, the jury wanted to 
hear my speech, and the sheriff wouldn't let them out. He 
locked the door and came down. One of them, Sim Coley, 
kicked at the door so hard that the jar broke the stove-pipe 
off from the wires in the Mason's Lodge-room above, and 
about forty yards of stove-pipe, about as thick round as a 
barrel, came lumbering over the banisters, and fell, with a 



Igg SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

crash like thunder, in the grand jury-room below, and then 
came rolling down stairs, four steps at a leap, bouncing like 
a rock from a mountain side." 

Here Sam Watson inquired how such a long pipe could 
get down a " pair of stairs," and how much broader a stair- 
case of a Kentucky court-house was than a turnpike road. 

Cave. — " Of course, I meant that it onjointed, and one 
or more of the joints rolled down. A loose, gangling fellow 
like you, Sam, ought to see no great difficulty in any thing 
being onjointed. I could just unscrew you" — 

"Order! Order!" interposed Judge Sawbridge. "No 
interruption of the speaker; Mr. Burton has the floor." 

" Well," continued Cave, " I had prepared the minds of 
the audience for a catastrophe, and this, coming as it did, 
had a fearful effect; but the hung jury coming down stairs 
on the other side of the building from the lodge, and by 
the opposite stairway, hearing the noise, started to running 
down like so many wild buffalo. A general hubbub arose 
below — old Ramkat rose in his place, with a smile at the 
prospect of so much good fining. ' Sheriff,' said he, * bring 
before me the authors of that confusion.' Just then the 
plaster of the ceiling of the court room began to fall, and 
the women raised a shriek. Old Ramkat bellowed up — 
' Sheriff, consider the whole audience fined ten dollars a 
piece, and mind and collect the fees at the door before they 
depart. Clerk, consider the whole court house fined — wo- 
men and children half price — and take down their names. 
Sheriff, see to the doors being closed.' But just then ano- 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 169 

ther section of the stove-pipe came thundering down, and 
about the eighth of an acre of plastering fell, knocking down 
sixty or seventy men and women; and the people in the 
galleries came rushing down, some jumping over into the 
crowd below; and a sheet of plastering, about as large as a 
tray, came down from above the chandelier, and struck old 
Ramkat over the head, and knocked him out of the judge's 
stand into the clerk's box; and he struck old Taxcross on 
the shoulders, and turned over about a gallon of ink on the 
records. Then Pug Williams, the bailiff, shouted out, 
'Earthquake! — Earthquake! ' and all the women went 
into hysterics; and Pug, not knowing what to do, caught 
the bell-rope, and began furiously to ring the bell. Such 
shouts of 'murder! fire! fire!' you never heard. There 
was a rush to the doors, but the day being cold they were 
closed, and of course on the inside, and the crowd pressed 
in such a mass and mess against them, that, I suppose, there 
was a hundred tons' pressure on them, and they could not be 
got open. I was standing before the jury, and just behind 
them was a window, but it was down: I leaped over the 
jury, carried them before me" — 

Watson. — " The first time you ever carried them. 
Cave." 

Cave. — " Not by a jug full. I bowed my neck and 
jumped leap-frog through the window, carried the sash out 
on my neck, and landed safe in the yard, cutting a jugular 
vein or two half through, and picked myself up and ran, with 
the sash on my neck, up street, bleeding like a butcher, and 



170 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

shouting murder at every jump. I verily thought I never 
should see supper time. 

" In the mean time the very devil was to pay in the court- 
house. Old Ramkat, half stunned, ran up the steps to ihe 
judge's platform, near which was a window, hoisted it and 
jumped, like a flying mullet, over on to the green, thirty feet 
below, sprained his ankle and fell. Frank Duer, once the 
most eloquent man at the bar, but who had fattened himself 
out of his eloquence — weighing three hundred and ninety, 
and so fat that he could only wheeze out his figures of 
speech, and broke down from exhaustion of wind in fifteen 
minutes — followed suit, just squeezing himself through the 
same window, muttering a prayer for his soul that was just 
about leaving such comfortable lodgings, came thundering 
down on the ground, jarring it like a real earthquake, and 
bounced a foot, and fell senseless on Ramkat. Ramkat, 
feeling the jar, and mashed under Frank, thought the earth- 
quake had shook down the gable end of the court-house and 
it had fell on him. So he thought fining time was over 
with him. He hollered out in a smothered cry, ' Excavate 
the Court! — Excavate the Court! ' But nobody would 
do it, but let him sv/eat and smother for four hours. 

" Then Luke Casey, a little, short, bilious, collecting 
attorney, as pert and active as if he was made out of 
watch-springs and gum-elastic, and who always carried a 
green bag with old newspapers and brickbats in it, and 
combed his hair over his face to look savage, so as to get up 
a reputation for being a good hand at dirty work — Luke 



CAVE BUBTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 171 

was ciphering the interest on a little grocery account of 
fifteen dollars; he had appealed from a justice's court, and 
had a big deposition, taken in the case, all the way from 
New-York, in his hand; he sprung over three benches of 
the bar at a leap, and grabbed his hand on Girard Moseley's 
head to make another leap towards a window — going as if 
there was a prospect of a fee ahead, and the client was 
about leaving town. He leaped clear over, but carried Gi- 
rard's wig with him. Now Girard was a widower, in a 
remarkable state of preservation, and of fine constitution, 
having survived three aggravated attacks of matrimony. He 
pretended to practice law; but his real business was marry- 
ing for money. He had got well off at it, though he never 
got more than four thousand dollars with any- one wife. He 
did business on the principle of 'quick returns and short 
profits.' He pretended to be thirty and the rise, but was, 
at the least, fifty. He prided himself on his hair, a rich, light 
sorrel, sleek and glossy, and greased over with peppermint, cin- 
namon, and all sorts of sweet smells. He smelt like a barber's 
shop; and such a polite, nice, easy fellow, to be sure, was 
Girard. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and yet let him 
get hold of a dime, and he griped it so hard you might hear 
the eagle squall. He only courted rich old maids in infirm 
health, and was too stingy ever to raise a family. He was 
very sweet on old Miss Julia Pritcher, a girl of about thirty- 
five, who was lank, hysterical, and, the boys said, fitified; 
and who had just got about five thousand dollars from her^ 
aunt, whom she had served about fifteen years as upper ser- 



172 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA, 

vant, but who was now gone the old road. Nobody ever 
thought of Girard's wearing a wig. He pretended it was 
Jayne's Hair Elixir that brought it out. Fudge! But 
Luke caught him by the top-knot, and peeled his head like 
a white onion. He left him as bald as a billiard-ball — not 
a hair between his scalp and heaven. Luke took the wig, 
and hastily, without thinking what he was doing, filed it in 
the deposition. Moseley had brought Jule Pritcher there, 
and she was painted up like a doll: her withered old face 
streaked like a June apple. She needn't have put herself to 
that trouble for Girard; he would have married her in her 
winding-sheet, if she had been as ugly as original sin, and 
only had enough breath in her to say yes to the preacher. 

" And now the fury began to grow outside. The smoke, 
rushing out of the window of the lodge-room, and the cry 
of fire brought out the fire-engines and companies, and the 
rag, tag and bob-tail boys and negroes that follow on shout- 
ing, with great glee, ' fire! fire! fire! ' along the streets. 
Ting-a-ling came on the engines — there were two of them — 
until they brought up in the court-house yard; one of them 
in front, the other at the side or gable end. It was some 
time before the hose could be fixed right; every fellow act- 
ing as captain, and all being in the way of the rest. Wood 
Chuck, a tanner's journeyman — a long, slim, yellow-breeched 
fellow, undertook to act as engineer of engine No. 1. 
'Play in at the windows! ' cried the crowd outside, 'there's 
fire there ' — and play it was. They worked the arms of the 
thing lustily — no two pulling or letting down at the same 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 173 

time, until at last, the water came. Wood guided pretty- 
well for a first trial, first slinging the pipe around and scat- 
tering the crowd. But, just as they came pouring out of 
the window, thick as bees, he got his aim, and he sent the 
water in a sluice into the window; the engine had a squirt 
like all blazes; and as Chuck levelled the pipe and drew a 
bead on them, and as it shot into the faces of the crowd — 
vip, vip, vip — they fell back shouting murder, as if they had 
been shot from the window-sill. Old Girard had got hold 
of Jule and brought her to, and was bringing her, she cling- 
ing with great maidenly timidity to him, and he hugging her 
pretty tight, and they, coming to the window — the rest fall- 
ing back — Chuck had a fair fire at them. He played on old 
Girard to some purpose — his bald head was a fair mark, and 
the water splashed and scattered from it like the foam on a 
figure head. The old fellow's ears rang like a conch shell for 
two years afterwards. Chuck gave Jule one swipe on one 
side of her head that drove a bunch of curls through the 
window opposite, and which washed all the complexion off 
that cheek, and the paint ran down the gullies and seams 
like blood; the other side was still rosy. The only safe 
place was to get down on the floor and let the water fly over. 
Old Girard never got over the tic-doloreux and rheumatism 
he got that day. The other engine played in the other 
window; and the more they played, the more the people in- 
side shouted and hollered; and the more they did that, the 
more Chuck and Bilil Jones, the engineer of No. 2, came 
to their relief. It was estimated that at least a thousand 



174 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

hogsheads of water were played into that court-house: in 
deed, I believe several small boys were drowned. 

" Some one shouted out for an axe to cut through the 
front door. One was brought. A big buck negro struck 
v/ith all his might, with the back of the axe, to knock it off 
its hinges; but there were at least twenty heads pushed up 
against the door, and these were knocked as dead by the 
blow as ever you saw a fish under the ice." 

Sawtridge. — "Were they all killed?" 

Cave. — "All? No— not all. Most of them came to, 
after a while. Indeed, I believe there was only three that 
were buried — and a tinner's boy, Tom Tyson, had his skull 
fractured; but they put silver plate, in the cracks, and he 
got over it — a few brains spilt out, or something of the sort 
— but his appetite was restored. 

" By the way, we had some fun when the trial of Luke 
Casey's little case came on. Moseley was on the other side, 
and came into court with his head tied up in a bandanna 
handkerchief. He smiled when some of Luke's proof was 
offered, and Luke, a little nettled, drew out the deposition, 
and with an air of triumph said, ' Perhaps, Mr. Moseley, 
you will laugh at this,' opening the deposition: as he opened 
it the wig fell out, and, every body recognizing it as Mose- 
ley's, a laugh arose which was only stopped by old Ramkat's 
Uning all around the table. Squire Moseley vamosed and 
left Luke to get a judgment, and the credit of a joke, of 
which he was innocent as Girard's head was of the hair. 



CAVE BURTON, ESQ., OF KENTUCKY. 175 

" Well boys, I reckon you would all like to know what 
became of my case. You see" — 

Here Dick Bowling, smacking his lips, remarked that 
the oysters were very fine. 

"Oysters!" said Cave. ''Have you been eating the 
oysters?" 

Dick said he had. 

Cave jumped to the back door at one bound, and called 
to the servant — " Jo, I say, Jo — get mine ready this minute 
— a few dozen raw — a half bushel roasted, and all the bal- 
ance stewed — with plenty of soup; I'll season them myself; 
and put on plenty of crackers, butter and pickles. Be 
quick, Jo, old fel." 

Jo made his appearance, hat in hand, and answered. 
"Why, Mas Cave, dey's all gone dis hour past; de gem'men 
eat ebery one up." 

"The devil they have!" said Cave. "Gentlemen," he 
continued, turning to the crowd, "is this true?" 

" Yes," replied the Judge. " Cave. I thought you were 
so interested telling the story, that you would prefer not to 
be interrupted." 

The exclamatory imprecations which Cave lavished upon 
his soul, his eyes, and the particular persons present, and 
humanity generally, would not be befitting these chaste 
pages. He left without any valedictory salutations of a 
complimentary or courteous tenor. And he did not recover 
his composure until he removed a tray full of blocd-puddingg 



176 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

sweetbread, kidneys and the like soporific viands, whicli had 
once graced the landlord's larder. 

Speaking of the entertainment afterwards, Cave said he 
did not care a dern for the oysters, but it pained him to 
think that men he took to be his friends, should have done 
him a secret injury. 



JUSTIFICATION AFTER VERDICT. 17> 



JUSTIFICATION AFTER VERDICT. 

The Fall assizes of the year 184 — , came on in the East 
Riding, and my friend, Paul Beechim, found himself duly 
indicted before Judge C, for an assault and battery commit- 
ted on the body of one Phillip Cousins, in the peace of the 
State then and there being. I felt more than ordinary in- 
terest in the case; the aforesaid Paul being a particular 
friend of mine, and, moreover, the case presenting some sin- 
gular and mysterious features. The defendant was one of the 
best natured and most peaceable citizens of the county, and, 
until recently, before this ex parte fighting, had been on 
terms of intimacy and friendship with the gentleman upon 
whom the assault was made. The assault was of a ferocious 
character; no one knew the cause of it; though every one 
knew, from the character of Beechim, that some extraordina- 
ry provocation had been given him: it was impossible to guess 
what it was. I was no better informed than the rest. When 
Beechim came to employ me in the case, I tried to possess 
myself of the facts. To all inquiries he only replied, that he 
had acted as he had done for good and sufllcient reasons — 



178 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

but that he did not choose to say more. I told him that it 
was impossible for me to defend him unless he would place 
me in possession of the facts, and assured him that whatever 
he communicated should be held in strict professional and 
personal confidence. But nothing I could say produced any 
change in his determination. I was about abandoning his 
case, remarking to him that if he felt no confidence in his 
counsel, or not enough to induce him to tell him the facts, he 
might be assured that it was no less his interest than my 
wish, that he should go where he would be better suited. 
But he persisted that it was from no want of confidence In 
me that he refused, and that he regarded me with the same 
feelings of friendship he had always felt for me, and conclud- 
ed by telling me that if I refused to take his case he should 
employ no other lawyer, but would let the matter proceed 
without defence. I told him I did not see any hope of his 
escaping severe punishment as the case stood; to which he 
replied that he expected it, but that he hoped I would, if it 
were possible, prevent his being sent to jail. The case came 
up in the regular course of things and was tried. The facts 
were brought out plainly enough. The assault was made in 
public, on the square; the weapon a large cane, with which 
the defendant had given Cousins an awful beating, gashing 
his head and causing the blood to flow very freely over his 
clothes. The only words said by Beechim in the course of 
the affair were, " How, d — n you, how do you like that pine- 
apple sop?" spoken just as he was leaving the prostrate 
Cousins. Of course on such testimony, the jury found the 



JUSTIFICATION AFTER VEEDICT. ^^^9 

defendant guilty: and the court retained Beechim in custody 
until some leisure was given it to fix the punishment, which 
by the statute, the court was bound to impose. 

Judge C. was something of a martinet in his line. He 
was a pretty good disciplinarian and kept the police business 
of the court in good order. There had been of late many 
violations of the law and a growing disposition was felt by 
the people and the courts to put down these excesses; but 
Beechim was so popular, and withal, so kind-hearted and 
gentlemanly a fellow, that a great deal of sympathy was felt 
for him, and a general wish that he might in some way get 
out of the scrape. 

Among the peculiarities of Judge C. was an itching cu- 
riosity. He was always peeping under the curtain of a case 
to see if he could not find something behind; and felt not a 
little disappointed and vexed when the examination stopped 
short of bringing out all the facts and incidents, the relations 
of the parties and the like. 

He had been struck with the expression used by Beech- 
im — "pine-apple sop," and was evidently uneasy in mind 
in his present state of inability to unravel it. The first 
pause in the cause he was next trying gave him an opportu- 
nity of calling me to him: I came of course: Said he, '' B — 
what did that fellow mean by ' pine-apple sop? ' " I told 
him there was a mystery about it which I could not explain. 
"A mystery, ha! Well, now, here, B — , in confidence — just 
tell me; it shan't go any farther — of course, you know — ^just 
give me an item of it." I told him I really was ignorant of 



;j[gO SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

it — as was every one else; but I felt sure that it was some 
thing that would place my client's conduct in a better light, 
though he obstinately refused to tell it to me. The judge 
then assured me I had better see my client, and get him 
to state it to the court; that he would give all proper weight 
to it in fixing the punishment, but that as the case stood, he 
should have to make an example of him. I took Paul aside 
and told him what the judge had said, and added my own 
counsel to his Honor's, but with no effect. He still mildly but 
resolutely refused to make any explanation. I felt a good 
deal vexed at this, as it seemed to me, most unreasonable 
conduct. Revolving the thing in my mind, I got more and 
more bothered the more I thought about it. I began to look at 
the circumstances more narrowly; that it was no sham or 
trick was very evident; no man would have taken such a 
beating for fun: that the provocation did not touch any do- 
mestic relations which the defendant might have desired to 
keep from being exposed, was apparent from the fact that 
my client had no relatives in the country, and the only girl 
he ever went to see was Cousin's sister. There were two 
facts I made sure of: the first that this meeting was imme- 
diately after Cousin's return from New Orleans, which oc- 
curred a few days after Beechim himself had arrived from 
that city; the second, that Cousins had kept out of the way 
and had received a note shortly before court from Beechim. 
I made up my mind that the quarrel originated in some- 
thing that had occurred between the parties in New Orleans. 
I happened to know, too, that Samuel Roberts, Esq., one of 



JUSTIFICATION AFTER VEEDICT. Ig-j 

the 'cutest chaps we had about town, and ' up to trap ' in 
'whatever was stirring wherever he happened to be, was in 
New Orleans at the time these young gentlemen were there; 
and I determined to get the facts out of him if I could. 
Shortly after breakfast, on the next day after the verdict, — 
the judgment still delayed, partly by my request and partly 
by the judge's curiosity being yet unappeased — I sallied out 
with a package in my hand as if going to the post office. 
Sam was on the street. I knew if there was any thing to be 
concealed by him, the only way to get it was by a coup d' 
etat. So half-passing him, I turned suddenly on him, and 
putting my hand on his shoulder, and looking him in the 
eye, broke into a laugh, saying, "Well, Sam, that quarrel be- 
tween Beechim and Cousins in New Orleans, and the — thing 
it grew out of — didn't it beat any thing you ever heard of? — 
Wasn't it the queerest affair that ever happened? I am de- 
fending Beechim, and, would you believe it? — he never told 
me up to last night what was the cause of the fight? Don't 
the whole think look curious?" I said this very flippantly 
with a knowing air, as if I knew all about it. Sam's eyes 
twinkled as he answered, " Well, B — , isn't it the blamedest 
piece of business you ever heard of?" "Yes," said I, "it 
is; and we must get Paul out of this scrape — the judge is 
viperish, and, if we don't do something, six months in jail is 
the very lowest time we can get Paul off with. Now, Sam 
just step here — tell me the particulars of the matter in New 
Orleans as you understand them; for you know any discrep- 
ancy between Paul's statement and yours might hurt things 



182 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

mightily, and I want to know exactly how the case stands." 
" No," said Sam, " I can't do it. I promised Paul, on 
honor, that I wouldn't mention it to a soul, and I won't do it 
unless I am compelled. So you needn't ask me unless you 
bring a note from Paul relieving me from the pledge." I 
saw he was determined, and it was useless to press the point. 
I had a vague idea that a woman was mixed up in the 
matter, and was afraid of some exposure of that sort; so I 
let out blind to find out: "Well, well, Sam, if you stand on 
points of honor, of course that ends it; — but just explain 
this thing — how did the girl behave under the circumstances? 
you know it was calculated to be a little trying, and the 
thing being so sudden and the parties being strangers, too, — 
you understand?" and I looked several volumes, and search- 
ed narrowly for some answer. Sam merely replied, " Why, 
as to the girl opposite, if you mean her, she behaved very 
well. She laughed a little at first, but when Paul showed 
how it hurt him, she seemed to feel for him, and let the rest 
take all the laugh." I felt better satisfied with this expla- 
nation, and determined on my course. 

The judge, in the mean time, was on thorns of anxiety. 
He had been conversing with the clerk, and sheriff, and 
State's attorney, but to no purpose; they only inflamed his 
curiosity the more; the mystery seemed inscrutable. He 
came to my room twice that night — but I was out — to see 
me on the subject. Early in the morning, as I was taking a 
comfortable snooze, his Honor came into my room, and woke 
me up. " Get up, B — , get up — why do you sleep so late in 



JUSTIFICATION AFTEB VERDICT. 183 

the morning? — It's a bad habit." (The judge was in the 
habit of sleeping until a late breakfast. I got up, and before 
I could get on my pantaloons, he opened the conversation. 
" B.," said he, " This thing about young Beechim distresses 
me a great deal. I feel really concerned about his case; 
and if you will tell me now how that difficulty originated, 
I — I — I — shall feel better about it. My mind would — yes, 
my mind would be relieved. Of course, B., you know all 
about the matter, and I assure you it will be to the interest 
of your client to reveal the whole affair — de-ci-ded-ly his 
interest. What is it?" I told him I really did not know, 
and could not find out as yet; but I thought I had got the 
clue to the mystery, and, if he would aid me, it could all be 
brought to light; I was convinced, that if it did come out, 
it would make decidedly for the benefit of Paul, whom I 
knew to be incapable of making a wanton assault upon any 
one, especially upon Cousins. The judge told me I might 
rely on him, and he would see if any one dared to hold back 
any thing which it was proper to bring out. He was so com- 
municative as to assure me that, generally speaking, he was 
a man of but little curiosity: indeed, he sometimes reproached 
himself, and his wife often reproached him, for not knowing 
things; — that is, he said, he meant by "not knowing things" 
— personal matters, gossip, and so forth — and that he never 
got any thing but what was played like a trapball all over 
town; but, in this case, as a mere matter of speculation, he 
confessed he did feel desirous of unravelling the riddle; in 
fact, it preyed on his mind, he couldn't rest last night; he 



184: SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

even dreamed of a fellow funnelling him and pouring down 
his throat a bottle of spirits of turpentine, and asking him 
as he left him gagged, how he liked •' that pine-apple sop.'' 
His Honor then went into many ingenious theories and sur- 
mises in elucidation of the mystery; but I felt assured that 
his explication was more fanciful than true. 

Finding a great indisposition still, to reveal any thing, 
on the part of Beechim, and fearing that, if he were present, 
he would interpose objections to the presentation of the 
proof as to the provocation, I arranged it so that the sheriff 
should detain Paul from the court-house until I could get 
the testimony in. 

In order to a more perfect understanding of the matter, 
I had as well state here, that Beechim was a young gentle- 
man who had some two or three years before " located " in 
the county, and was doing a general land agency and col- 
lecting business, surveying lands, &c., having before been 
engaged as principal in an academy. He had graduated at 
the college at Knoxville, Tennessee, and cherished senti- 
ments of great reverence for his venerable alma mater, 
which showed a very lively condition of the moral sensibili- 
ties. He thought very highly of the respectable society of 
that somewhat secluded village, and conceived a magnified 
idea of the burgh as a most populous, wealthy and flourish- 
ing metropolis. I verily believe he considered Knoxville at 
once the Athens and Paris of America, abounding in all the 
refinements, and shining with the polish of a rare and exqui- 
site civilization — the seat of learning, the home of luxury 



JUSTIFICATION AFTEB VERDICT. Ig5 

and the mart of commerce. Letters, and arts, and great 
men, and refined modes, and cultivated manners, and women 
of a type that they never before had been moulded into, there 
abounded, in his partial fancy prodigal of such generous ap- 
preciation. The magnificent self-delusion of dear old Cap- 
tain Jackson, immortalized by Elia, scarcely equalled the 
hallucination of Paul qiwad the sights and scenes, the little 
short of celestial glory of and about the city of Knoxville, as 
he would persist in calling that out-of-the-way, not-to-be- 
gotten-to, Sleepy-Hollow town, fifty miles from the "Virginia 
line, and a thousand miles from any where else. I speak 
of it in pre-railroad times. Paul had been assiduous in the 
cultivation of manners. His model was, of course, tliat he 
found at Knoxville. He had a great penchant for fashiona- 
ble life, and fashionable life was the life of the coteries, the 
upper-tens of Knoxville. Rusticity and vulgarity were 
abominations to him. To go back to Knoxville and get to 
the tip of the ton there, was the extreme top-notch of Paul's 
ambition. Apart from this high-church Knoxvillism, Paul 
was an excellent fellow, somewhat vain, sensitive to a fault, 
and thin-skinned; somewhat pretentious as to fashion, style 
and manners; indeed, the girls had got to regard him as a 
sort of village Beau Brummell, ''the glass of fashion and 
the mould of form " — a character on which he plumed him- 
self not a little, and, I am sorry to say it, he did not bear 
his blushing honors as meekly as could have been hoped for 
under the circumstances. He had written back to the 
friends of his youth (as Mr. Macawber hath it), in Knox- 



186 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

ville, that he was growing more reconciled to his fate; his 
mind was calmer, he said, though his exile had, at first, gone 
very hard with him; but the manners of the natives were 
evidently, he was pleased to think, under his missionary 
labor, improving, and he must say for these natives, that 
they had evinced docility — which gave him hopes of further 
civilization. 

That there could be any thing beyond the pitch of refine- 
ment to which Knoxville had gone, Paul could not believe 
on less than ocular evidence. 

I got out a subpoena and sent the sheriff after Roberts, 
with orders for immediate attendance. The court was in 
session, and I proposed taking up this matter of Beechim's 
before the usual business of the day was gone into. 

Samuel came into the court somewhat discomposed, but 
on observing that Beechim was not present, became reassur- 
ed. His Honor drew from his pouch a fresh quid of tobac- 
co, deposited it in his right cheek, wiped his mouth neatly 
with his handkerchief, seated himself comfortably in his 
chair, cleared his throat, blew his nose, and spread out his 
countenance into a pleasant and encouraging " skew," and 
directed me to proceed with the witness — commencing at the 
beginning and telling the witness to take his time. 

Roberts took the stand. He testified to this effect: in- 
deed, this is nearly a literal transcript of my notes, taken at 
the time. " Witness knows the parties — has known them 
for three years — is intimately acquainted with Beechim 
being a Tennesseean and having been at one time at Knox- 



JUSTIFICATION AFTEE VERDICT. 187 

ville — knows that Beechim and Cousins were on good terms; 
indeed quite friendly until May last. In company with 
witness they went together to New Orleans; went by way of 
Jackson and the Mississippi river; arrived there the 13th 
of the month — conversed together a good deal — conversation 
of a friendly character — quite sociable; Beechim talked a 
great deal of Knoxville, the girls, fashions and society: 
Cousins listened attentively: knows the parties must have 
been friendly. Arrived in New Orleans on the 18th, about 
10 A. M., Monday; intended to remain until Thursday; no 
boat going up until Tuesday night. B. expressed himself 
gratified by the zeal of the porters and hackmen to serve 
him; said, however, that it marred the enjoyment somewhat 
to think that probably these attentions might be mercenary. 
It was well not to be too credulous. Took lodgings at the 
St. Charles Hotel. Heard a conversation going on between 
the two — subject, tlie mode: Cousins had been in the city 
and the hotel, frequently, so he said — knew the rules and the 
etiquette; Beechim had been at the best hotels in Knoxville, 
knew their rules, but had been from Knoxville a good while, 
therefore was rusty — was not certain but that he might make 
some awkward blunder — might be fatal to his character: 
Cousins offered to act as cicerone — said B. might rely on 
him, 'to put him through;' told him to take an item from 
him — Beechim thanked him kindly. At three the gong 
rang for dinner — parties were in the gentlemen's sitting room. 
B. started — thought at first that the steam engine that work- 
ed the cooking stove in the kitchen had burst its boiler. C. 



188 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

told him it was the gong: B, asked him if it were not a 7ieui 
thing — long as he had been in Knoxville had never heard 
of such a thing — asked C. if he could believe it. Went to 
dinner — bill of fare was handed; B. wished to know if there 
was any Uncister to translate the French dishes — said there 
was in Knoxville; got along pretty well until just as B. had 
taken a piece of pine-apple on his plate, the waiter came 
along and put a green-colored bowl before every guest's plate 
with water and a small slice of lemon in it. Beechim asked 
Cousins what that was. C. replied, ' Sop for the pine-apple.' 
B. said he thought so. '• That's the way it used to be served 
up at ' The Traveller's Rest' in Knoxville." Beechim took 
the bowl and put it in his plate, and then put the pine-apple 
in the bowl, and commenced cutting up the apple, stirred it 
around in the fluid with his fork, and ate it, piece after piece. 
B. kept his eyes on the bowl — did not observe what was pass- 
ing about him. Many persons at table — five hundred at 
least — ladies, dandies, foreigners, moustached fellows; began 
to be an uproar on the other side of the table; every body 
got to looking down at Beechim — eye-glasses put up — a 
double-barrelled spy-glass (as witness supposed) levelled at 
him by a man at the head of the table, who stood up to 
draw a bead on him — loud laughing — women putting hand- 
kerchiefs, or napkins, (witness is not certain which,) to 
their mouths. B. got through with the pine-apple. Cousins 
had been laughing with the rest — composed himself now, and 
asked B. "how he like the pine-apple?" B. answered in 
these words: ' I think the pine-apple very good, but don't 



JUSTIFICATION AFTER VERDICT. 139 

you think the sauce is rather insipid?' — Spoke the words 
pretty loud — heard at some distance — great sensation — im- 
moderate laughter — women screaming — men calling for wine 
— the French consul's clerk drank to the English consul's clerk 
* Ze shentlemen from ze interiore, may he leeve to a green 
ole aige,' — drank with all the honors. Beechim seeing the 
fuss, turned to an old man next him and asked what was the 
matter — any news of an exciting character? The old man, 
a cotton broker — an Englishman — replied that he, B., ' had 
been making an ass of himself — ^he had been eating out of 
the finger-bowl.' B.'s face grew as red as a beet — then pale; 
he jumped back — tried to creep out by bending his head 
down below the chairs — rushed on and knocked over tlie 
waiter with the coffee — spilt it on a young lady — staggered 
back and fell against a Frenchman — tore his ruffles — knock- 
ed him, head striking head, over against an Irishman — quar- 
rel — two duels next morning — Frenchman killed. Gen. 
Sacre Froglegge rose and proposed three cheers for the gen- 
tleman of retiring habits; encored: wine all around the 
board — uproarious doings: Tom Placide called on to rehearse 
the scene — done — applause terriffic: Beechim got out — for- 
got where his hat was — ran bare-headed to the bar (?) — call- 
ed for his bill — never got his clothes — ran to the steamboat — 
shut himself up in the state room for two days; — thing out 
in the Picayune next morning — no names given. B. came 
home — saw Cousins when he came up — licked him within an 
inch of his life with a hickory stick. Witness further saith 
not." 



190 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

" Yes " said the judge, " and served him right. Justifi- 
catfon complete! So enter it, clerk." 

During the delivery of this testimony, you may be sure 
that the crowd were not very serious; but knowing how sen- 
sitive Beechim was on the subject, I was congratulating my- 
self that he was not present. Turning from the witness as 
he finished, I was pained to see Beechim — he had come in 
after the trial began, — poor Paul! sitting on the bench weep- 
ing piteously. I tried to console him — I told him not to 
mind it — it was a mere hagatelle; but he only squeezed my 
hand, and brokenly said, " B., thank you; you are my friend: 
I shall never forget you; you meant it for the best: — you 
have saved my body but you have ruined my character. 
Good-bye, I leave this morning. Roberts will settle your 
fee. But, B., as a friend — one request; if — you — can — 
help— it— don't— let— this— thing— get— back— to — Knoxville." 

" Et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos." 

Accordingly Paul left— for good and all. What became 
of him I don't know. I did hear of one Paul Beechim in 
California; but whether the same one or not, I can't say. 
He was named in the papers as a manager of the first San 
Francisco ball of 22d February, 1849. 

His Honor made a solemn and affecting charge to the 
audience, generally, commending the moderation of young 
Beechim. " See," said his Honor, " the way that this thing 
works. Most men would have seized their gun, or bowie 



JUSTIFICATION AFTER VERDICT. 19 1 

on such terrible aggravation, and taken the life of the cul- 
prit; but this young gentleman has set an example which 
older heads might well copy: he has contented himself with 
taking a club and giving him a good, sound, constitutional, 
conservative licking; and you see, gentlemen, the milder 
remedy has answered every good purpose! The Court ad- 
journs for refreshment." 



192 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



AN" AFFAIR OF HONOR. 

In the pleasant village of Patton's-Hill, in the Flush 
Times, there were several resorts for the refreshment of the 
weary traveller, and for the allaying of the chronic thirst of 
more than one of the inhabitants of the place and the coun- 
try adjacent. They are closed now, as are the gaping por- 
tals of those who were wont in the wild days, to " indulge " 
in exciting beverages. A staid, quiet, moral and intelligent 
community have supplied the place of many of the early 
settlers "who left their country for their country's good;" 
and churches, school-houses and Lodges now are prominent 
where the " doggery " made wild work with " the peace and 
dignity of the State," and the respectability and decency of 
particular individuals. 

In the old time there came into the village of a Satur- 
day evening, a company more promiscuous than select, who 
gathered, like bees at the mouth of a hive, around the doors 
of the grocery. On one of these occasions a scene occurred, 
which I thmk worthy of commemoration; and it may be re- 
lied upon as authentic, in the main, as it came regularly be- 



AN AFFAIR OF HONOR. 193 

fore the Court as a part of the proceedings of a trial in a 
Sta'e case. 

Jonas Sykes was a very valiant man when in liquor. 
But Jonas, like a good many other valiant men, was more 
valiant in peace than in war. He was a very Samson in 
fight — but, like Samson, he liked to do battle vv'ith that de- 
scription of weapon which so scattered the Philistine hosts 
— that jaw-bone — one of which Nature had furnished Jonas 
with. Jonas v/as prodigal in the jaw-work and wind-work 
of a fight, and he could outswear " our army in Flanders.' 
He had method in his madness, too, as he showed in select- 
ing his enemies. He always knew, or thought he knew, how 
much a man would stand before he commenced " abusing " 
him, and his wrath grew the fiercer according as the patience 
of his enemy grew greater, and he was more fierce — like a 
bull-dog chained — as he was the more held off. 

Jonas had picked a quarrel with a quiet, demure fellov. 
of the name of Samuel Mooney, and lavished upon that gen- 
tleman's liver, soul and eyes, many expressions much more 
fervid than polite or kind. Sam stood it for some time, bul 
at length, like a terrapin with coals on his back, even his 
sluggish spirit could stand it no longer. He began to retort 
on Jonas some of the inverted compliments with which Jo- 
nas had besprinkled him. Whereupon Jonas felt his chiv- 
alry so moved thereat, that he challenged him to mortal 
combat. 

Now, Jonas, as mo.'=5t bullies did at that time, went armed. 
Samuel had no weepins, as he called those dangerous imple- 



194 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

ments, and gave that fact as an apology for not accepting 
Jonas's kind invitation. But Jonas would not " hear to " 
any such paltry excuse; he denounced Sam, for a white- 
livered poltroon, who would insult a gentleman (thereby 
meaning himself), and then refuse him satisfaction, and swore 
he would post him up all over town; regretting that he did 
not have the chance of blowing a hole through his carcass with 
his " Derringer " that " a bull-bat could fly through without 
teching airy wing," and giving him his solemn word of 
honor that if he, (Sam,) would only fight him, (Jonas,) he, 
(Jonas,) wouldn't hit him, (Sam,) an inch above his hip- 
bone — which certainly was encouraging. 

Sam still protested he was weaponless. " Well," Isaid 
Jonas, " you shan't have that excuse any longer. I've got 
two as good pistols as ever was bought at Orleans, and you 
may have choice." And pulling one out of either side 
pocket, he produced two pistols very much alike, and, ad- 
vancing to Sam, put his hands behind him and shuffled them 
from hand to hand a moment or two, and then held them 
forward — one rather in advance of the other — towards Sam, 
telling him to take which he chose. Sam took the one near- 
est to him, and Jonas called out to Bob Dobbs, who stood 
by, "to put them through in a fair duel," and called the 
crowd to witness " that he done it to the rascal accord- 
in' to law." Bob willingly accepted the honorable position 
assigned him; commanded order; made the crowd stand 
back; — measured off the ground — ten paces — and stationed 
the combatants sidewise in duelling position. Bob then 



AN AFFAIB OF HONOR. 1Q^ 

armed himself with a scythe blade, and flourishing it in the 
air, swore death and destruction to all who should interfere 
by word, look, or sign. 

Bob took his position at a right angle between the two, 
and gave out in a loud and sonorous voice the programme of 
proceedings. " Gentlemen," said he, " the rules are as fol- 
lows: the parties are to be asked — 'Gentlemen are you 
ready ' — answering Yes, I, as mutual second, will then pro- 
nounce the words slowly, 'Fire: one — two — three;' the 
parties to fire as they choose between the words Fire and 
three, and if either fires before or after the time, I shall pro- 
ceed to put him to death without quarter, bail or main 
prize." Micajah P., a lawyer present, suggested, " or bene- 
fit of clergy." "Yes," said Bob, " or the benefit of a 
clergyman." 

Bob then proceeded to give the words out. At the 
word two Jonas's pistol snapped, but Sam's went off, the 
ball striking a button on Jonas's drawers and cutting off a 
little of the skin. Jonas fell — his legs flying up in the air, 
and shouting, "Murder! Murder! he's knocked off all the 
lower part of my abcZomen. Send for a doctor! quick! 
quick. Oh! Lordy! oh! Lordy! I'm a dead man: the 
other fellow got the — wrong — pistol!" (And so he had; for 
on examining Jonas's pistol, it was found to have had no 
load in it. Jonas, by mistake in shuflfling, having given the 
loaded one to Sam and kept the empty one himself.) 

The testimony in the case was related v/ith such comic 
humor by one of the witnesses, that the jury were thrown 



296 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

into convulsions of laughter; and the case being submitted 
without argument, the verdict was a fine of one cent only 
against the combatants. 

Jonas immediately retired from the bullying business; 
and, as soon as he could get his affairs wound up, like " the 
star of Empire," " westward took his way." 



HON. S. S. PRENTISS. 19' 



HCK. S. S. PRENTISS. 

The character of the bar, in the older portions of the 
State of Mississippi, was very different from that of the bar 
in the new districts. Especially was this the case with the 
counties on and near the Mississippi river. In its front ranka 
stood Prentiss, Holt, Boyd, Quitman, Wilkinson, Winches- 
ter, Foote, Henderson, and others. 

It was at the period first mentioned by me, in 1837, that 
Sargeant S. Prentiss was in the flower of his forensic fame. 
He had not, at that time, mingled largely in federal politics. 
He had made but few enemies; and had not '' staled his pre- 
sence," but was in all the freshness of his unmatched fac- 
ulties. At this day it is difficult for any one to appreciate 
the enthusiasm which greeted this gifted man, the admiration 
which was felt for him, and the affection which followed him. 
He was to Mississippi, in her youth, what Jenny Lind is to 
the musical world, or what Charles Fox, whom he resembled 
in many things, was to the whig party of England in his day. 
Why he was so, it is not difficult to see. He was a type of 
his times, a representative of the qualities of the people, or 



198 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

rather of the better qualities of the wilder and more im- 
petuous part of them. The proportion of young men — as in 
all new countries — was great, and the proportion of wild 
young men was, unfortunately, still greater. 

He had all those qualities which make us charitable to 
the character of Prince Hal, as it is painted by Shakespeare, 
even when our approval is not fully bestowed. Generous as 
a prince of the royal blood, brave and chivalrous as a knight 
templar, of a spirit that scorned every thing mean, underhand- 
ed or servile, he was prodigal to improvidence, instant in 
resentment, and bitter in his animosities, yet magnanimous 
to forgive when reparation had been made, or misconstruction 
explained away. There was no littleness about him. Even 
towards an avowed enemy he was open and manly, and bore 
himself with a sort of antique courtesy and knightly hostility, 
in which self-respect mingled with respect for his foe, except 
when contempt was mixed with hatred then no words can 
convey any sense of the intensity of his scorn, the depth of 
his loathing. When he thus outlawed a man from his cour- 
tesy and respect, language could scarce supply words to ex- 
press his disgust and detestation. 

Fear seemed to be a stranger to his nature. He never 
hestitated to meet, nor did he wait for, " responsibili- 
ty," but he went in quest of it. To denounce meanness 
or villainy, in any and all forms, when it came in his way, 
was, with him, a matter of duty, from which he never shrunk; 
and so to denounce it as to bring himself in direct collision 
with the perpetrator or perpetrators— for he took them in 



HON. S. S. PBENTI8S. 199 

crowds as well as singly — was a task for which he was instant 
In season or out of season. 

Even in the vices of Prentiss, there were magnificence 
and brilliancy imposing in a high degree. When he treated 
it was a mass entertainment. On one occasion he char- 
tered the theatre for the special gratification of his friends, 
— the public generally. He bet thousands on the turn of a 
card, and witnessed the success or failure of the wager with 
the nonchalance of a Mexican monte-player, or, as was most 
usual, with the light humor of a Spanish muleteer. He broke 
a faro-bank by the nerve with which he laid his large bets, 
and by exciting the passion of the veteran dealer, or awed 
him into honesty by the glance of his strong and steady 
eye. 

Attachment to his -friends was a passion. It was a part 
of the loyalty to the honorable and chivalric, which formed 
the sub-soil of his strange and wayward nature. He never 
deserted a friend. His confidence knew no bounds. It scorn- 
ed all restraints and considerations of prudence or policy. 
He made his friends' quarrels his own, and was as guardful 
of their reputations as of his own. He would put his name 
on the back of their paper, without looking at the face of it, 
and give his carte Uanche, if needed, by the quire. He was 
above the littleness of jealousy or rivalry; and his love of 
truth, his fidelity and frankness, were formed on the antique 
models of the chevaliers. But in social qualities he knew no 
rival. These made him the delight of every circle; they 
were adapted to all, and were exercised on all. The same 



300 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

histrionic and dramatic talent that gave to his oratory so ir- 
resistible a charm, and adapted him to all grades and sorts 
of people, fitted him, in conversation, to delight all men. He 
never staled and never flagged. Even if the fund of acquir- 
ed capital could have run out, his originality was such, that 
his supply from the perennial fountain within was inexhausti- 
ble. 

His humor was as various as profound — from the most 
delicate wit to the broadest farce, from irony to caricature, 
from classical allusion to the verge — and sometimes beyond 
the verge — of coarse jest and Falstaff extravagance; and no 
one knew in which department he most excelled. His ani- 
mal spirits flowed over like an artesian well, ever gushing 
out in a deep, bright and sparkling current. 

He never seemed to despond or droop for a moment: the 
cares and anxieties of life were mere bagatelles to him. Sent 
to jail for fighting in the court-house, he made the walls of 
the prison resound with unaccustomed shouts of merriment 
and revelry. Starting to fight a duel, he laid down his hand 
at poker, to resume it with a smile when he returned, and 
went on the field laughing with his friends, as to a pic-nic. 
Yet no one knew better the proprieties of life than himself 
— when to put off levity, and treat grave subjects and per- 
sons with proper respect; and no one could assume and pre- 
serve more gracefully a dignified and sober demeanor. 

His early reading and education had been extensive and 
deep. Probably no man of his age, in the State, was so well 
read In the ancient and modern classics, in the current 



HON. S. S. PEENTISS. 201 

literature of the day, and — what may seem stranger— 
in the sacred scriptures. His speeches drew some of their 
grandest images, strongest expressions, and aptest illustra- 
tions from the inspired writings. 

The personnel of this remarkable man was well calculat- 
ed to rivet the interest his character inspired. Though he 
was low of stature, and deformed in one leg, his frame was 
uncommonly athletic and muscular; his arms and chest were 
well formed, the latter deep and broad; his head large, and 
a model of classical proportions and noble contour. A hand- 
some face, compact brow, massive and expanded, and eyes of 
dark hazel, full and clear, were fitted for the expression of 
every passion and flitting shade of feeling and sentiment. His 
complexion partook of the bilious rather than the sanguine 
temperament. The skin was smooth and bloodless — no excite- 
ment or stimulus heightened its color; nor did the writer ever 
see any evidence in his face of irregularity of habit. In repose, 
his countenance was serious and rather melancholy — certainly 
somewhat soft and quiet in expression, but evidencing 
strength and power, and the masculine rather than the 
light and flexible qualities which characterized him in his 
convivial moments. There was nothing affected or the- 
atrical in his manner, though some parts of his printed 
speeches would seem to indicate this. He was frank and 
artless as a child; and nothing could have been more winning 
than his familiar intercourse with the bar, with whom he was 
always a favorite, and without a rival in their affection. 

I come now to speak of him as a lawyer. 



302 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

He was more widely known as a politician than a lawyer 
as an advocate than a jurist. This was because politics form 
a wider and more conspicuous theatre than the bar, and be- 
cause the mass of men are better judges of oratory than of 
law. That he was a man of wonderful versatility and varied 
accomplishments, is most true; that he was a popular orator 
of the first class is also true; and that all of his faculties 
did not often, if ever, find employment in his profession, 
may be true likewise. So far he appeared to better advan- 
tage in a deliberative assembly, or before the people, because 
there he had a wider range and subjects of a more general 
interest, and was not fettered by rules and precedents; his 
genius expanded over a larger area, and exercised his powers 
in greater variety and number. Moreover, a stump speech 
is rarely made chiefly for conviction and persuasion, but to 
gratify and delight the auditors, and to raise the character 
of the speaker. Imagery, anecdote, ornament, eloquence and 
elocution, are in better taste than in a speech at the bar, 
where the chief and only legitimate aim is to convince and 
instruct. 

It will always be a mooted point among Prentiss's ad- 
mirers, as to where his strength chiefly lay. My own opin- 
ion Is that it was as a jurist that he mostly excelled; that 
it consisted in knowing and being able to show to others 
what was the law. 1 state the opinion with some diffidence, 
and, did it rest on my own judgment alone, should not haz- 
ard it at all. But the eminent chief-justice of the high 
court of errors and appeals of Mississippi thought that 



HON. S. S. PBENTISS. 203 

Prentiss appeared to most advantage before the court; and 
a distinguished judge of the Supreme Court of Alabama, who 
had heard him before the chancellor of Mississippi, expressed 
to me the opinion that his talents shone most conspicuously 
in that forum. These were men who could be led from a 
fair judgment of a legal argument by mere oratory, about 
as readily as old Playfair could be turned from a true criti- 
cism upon a mathematical treatise, by its being burnished 
over with extracts from fourth-of-July harangues. Had bril- 
liant declamation been his only or chief faculty, there were 
plenty of his competitors at the bar, who, by their learning 
and powers of argument, would have knocked the spangles 
off him, and sent his cases whirling out of court, to the as- 
tonishment of hapless clients who had trusted to such fragile 
help in time of trial. 

It may be asked how is this possible? How is it con- 
sistent with the jealous demands which the law makes of 
the ceaseless and persevering attention of her followers as 
the condition of her favors? The question needs an an- 
swer. It is to be found somewhere else than in the un- 
aided resources of even such an intellect as that of Sergeant 
Prentiss. In some form or other, Prentiss always was a 
student. Probably the most largely developed of all his 
faculties was his memory. He gathered information with 
marvellous rapidity. The sun-stroke that makes its impres- 
sion upon the medicated plate is not more rapid in trans- 
cribing, or more faithful in fixing its image, than was his 
perception in taking cognizance of facts and principles, or 



204 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

his ability to retain them. Once fixed, the impression was 
there for ever. It is true, as Mr. Wirt observed, that genius 
must have materials to work on. No man, how magnificent- 
ly soever endowed, can possibly be a safe, much less a great 
lawyer, who does not understand the facts and law of his 
case. But some men may understand them much more 
readily than others. There are labor-saving minds, as well 
as labor-saving machines, and that of Mr. Prentiss was one 
of them. In youth he had devoted himself with intense 
application to legal studies, and had mastered, as few men 
have done, the elements of the law and much of its text- 
book learning. So acute and retentive an observer must 
too — especially in the freshness and novelty of his first years 
of practice — " have absorbed " no little law as it fioated 
through the court-house, or was distilled from the bench and 
bar. 

But more especially, it should be noted that Mr. Pren- 
tiss, until the fruition of his fame, was a laborious man, even 
in the tapestring sense. While the world was spreading 
the wild tales of his youth, his deviations, though conspicu- 
ous enough while they lasted, were only occasional, and at 
long intervals, the intervening time being occupied in ab- 
stemious application to his studies. Doubtless, too, the 
supposed obstacles in the way of his success were greatly ex- 
aggerated, the vulgar having a great proneness to magnify 
the frailties of great men, and to lionize genius by making it 
independent, for its splendid achievements, of all external 
aids. 



HON. S. S. PBENTISS. 205 

With these allowances, however, truth requires the ad- 
mission that Mr. Prentiss did, when at the seat of govern- 
ment, occupy the hours, usually allotted by the diligent prac- 
titioner to hooks or clients, in amusements not well suited 
to prepare him for those great efforts which have Indis- 
solubly associated his name with the judicial history of the 
State. 

As an advocate, Mr. Prentiss attained a wider celebrity 
than as a jurist. Indeed, he was more formidable in this 
than in any other department of his profession. Before the 
Supreme, or Chancery, or Circuit Court, upon the law of the 
case, inferior abilities might set off, against greater native 
powers, superior application and research; or the precedents 
might overpower him; or the learning or judgment of the 
bench might come in aid of the right, even when more feebly 
defended than assailed. But what protection had mediocrity, 
or even second-rate talent, against the influences of excite- 
ment and fascination, let loose upon a mercurial jury, at least 
as easily impressed through their passions as their reason? 
The boldness of his attacks, his iron nerve, his adroitness, 
his power of debate, the overpowering fire — broadside after 
broadside — which he poured into the assailable points of his 
adversary, his facility and plainness of illustration, and his 
talent of adapting himself to every mind and character he 
addressed, rendered him, on all debatable issues, next to 
irresistible. To give him the conclusion was nearly the same 
thing as to give him the verdict. 

In the examination of witnesses, he was thought particu- 



206 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

larly to excel. He wasted no time by Irrelevant questions. 
He seemed to weigh every question before he put it, and see 
clearly its bearing upon every part of the case. The facts 
were brought out in natural and simple order. He exam- 
ined as few witnesses, and elicited as few facts as he could 
safely get along with. In this way he avoided the danger of 
discrepancy, and kept his mind undiverted from the control- 
ling points in the case. The jury were left unwearied and 
unconfused, and saw, before the argument, the bearing of the 
testimony. 

He avoided, too, the miserable error into which so many 
lawyers fall, of making every possible point in a case, 
and pressing all with equal force and confidence, thereby 
prejudicing the mind of the court, and making the jury 
believe that the trial of a cause is but running a jockey 
race. 

In arguing a cause of much public interest, he got all 
the benefit of the sympathy and feeling of the by-standers. 
He would sometimes turn towards them in an impassioned 
appeal, as if looking for a larger audience than court and 
jury; and the excitement of the outsiders, especially in 
criminal cases, was thrown with great effect into the jury- 
box. 

Mr. Prentiss was never thrown off his guard, or seem- 
ingly taken by surprise. He kept his temper; or. If he got 
furious, there was " method in his madness." 

He had a faculty In speaking I never knew possessed by 
any other person. He seemed to speak without any effort 



HON. S. S. PRENTISS. 307 

of the will. There seemed to be no governing or guiding 
power to the particular faculty called into exercise. Tt 
worked on, and its treasures flowed spontaneously. Thei'e 
was no air of thought, no elevation, frowning or knitting of the 
brow — no fixing up of the countenance — no pauses to collect 
or arrange his thoughts. All seemed natural and unpre- 
meditated. No one ever felt uneasy lest he might fall; in 
his most brilliant flights ''the empyrean heights" into which 
he soared seemed to be his natural element — as the upper 
air the eagle's. 

Among the most powerful of his jury efforts, were his 
speeches against Bird, for the murder of Cameron; and 
against Phelps, the notorious highway robber and murderer. 
Both were convicted. The former owed his conviction, as 
General Foote, who defended him with great zeal and ability, 
thought, to the transcendent eloquence of Prentiss. He was 
justly convicted, however, as his confession, afterwards made, 
proved. Phelps was one of the most daring and desperate 
of ruffians. He fronted his, prosecutor and the court, not 
only with composure, but with scornful and malignant defi- 
ance. When Prentiss rose to speak, and for some time 
afterwards, the criminal scowled upon him a look of hate 
and insolence. But when the orator, kindling with his sub- 
ject, turned upon him, and poured down a stream of burning 
invective, like lava, upon his head; when he depicted the 
villainy and barbarity of his bloody atrocities; when he 
pictured, in dark and dismal colors, the fate which awaited 
him, and the awful judgment, to be pronounced at another 



208 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

bar, upon his crimes, when he should be confronted with his 
Innocent victims: when he fixed his gaze of concentrated 
power upon him, the strong man's face relaxed; his eyes 
faltered and fell; until at length, unable to bear up longer, 
self-convicted, he hid his head beneath the bar, and exhibit- 
ed a picture of ruffian-audacity cowed beneath the spell of 
true courage and triumphant genius. Though convicted, he 
was not hung. He broke jail, and resisted recapture so des- 
perately, that although he was encumbered with his fetters, 
his pursuers had to kill him in self-defence, or permit his 
escape. 

In his defence of criminals, in that large class of cases in 
which something of elevation or bravery in some son, re- 
deemed the lavdessness of the act, where murder was com- 
mitted under a sense of outrage, or upon sudden resentment, 
and in fair combat, his chivalrous spirit upheld the the pub- 
lic sentiment, which, if it did not justify that sort of " wild 
justice," could not be brought to punish it ignominiously. 
His appeals fell like flames on those 

" Souls made of fire, and children of the sun. 
With whom revenge was virtue." 

I have never heard of but one client of his who was con- 
victed on a charge of homicide, and he was convicted of one 
of its lesser degrees. So successful was he, that the expres- 
sion — " Prentiss couldn't clear him " — was a hyperbole that 
expressed the desperation of a criminal's fortunes. 

Mr. P. was employed only in important cases, and gene- 



HON. S. S. PRENTISS. 209 

rally as associate counsel, and was thereby relieved of 
much of the preliminary preparation which occupies so much 
of the time of the attorney in getting a case ripe for trial. 
In the Supreme and Chancery Courts he had, of course, only 
to examine the record and prepare his argument. On the 
circuit his labors were much more arduous. The important 
criminal and civil causes which he argued, necessarily requir- 
ed consultations wiih clients, the preparation, of pleadings 
and proofs, either under his supervision, or by his advice and 
direction; and this, from the number and difficulty of the 
cases, must have consumed time and required application 
and industry. 

At the time of which I speak, his long vigils and contin- 
ued excitement did not enfeeble his energies. Indeed, he 
has been known to assert, that he felt brighter, and in better 
preparation for forensic debate, after sitting up all night in 
company with his friends than at any other time. He re- 
quired less sleep, probably, than any man in the State, sel- 
dom devoting to that purpose more than three or four hours 
in the twenty-four. After his friends had retired at a late 
hour in the night, or rather at an early hour in the morning, 
he has been known to get his books and papers and prepare 
for the business of the day. 

His faculty of concentration drew his energies, as through 
a lens, upon the subject before him. No matter what he 
was engaged in, his intellect was in ceaseless play and motion. 
Alike comprehensive and systematic in the arrangement of 
his thoughts, he reproduced without difficulty what he had 
once conceived. 



210 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

Probably something would have still been wanting to ex- 
plain his celerity of preparation for his causes, had not par- 
tial nature gifted him with the lawyer's highest talent, the 
acumen which, like an instinct, enabled him to see the points 
which the record presented. His genius for generalizing 
saved him, in a moment, the labor of a long and tedious re- 
flection upon, and collation of, the several parts of a narra- 
tive. He read with great rapidity; glancing his eyes through 
a page he caught the substance of its contents at a view. 
His analysis, too, was wonderful. The chemist does not re- 
duce the contents of his alembic to their elements more rap- 
idly or surely than he resolved the most complicated facts 
into primary principles. 

His statements — like those of all great lawyers — were 
clear, perspicuous and compact; the language simple and 
sententious. Considered in the most technical sense, as fo- 
rensic arguments merely, no one will deny that his speeches 
were admirable and able efforts. If the professional reader 
will turn to the meagre reports of his arguments in the cases 
of Ross V. Vertner, 5 How. 305; Vick et al. v. The Mayor 
and Alderman of Vicks'burg, 1 How. 381; and The Plant- 
ers' Bank v. Snodgrass et al, he will, I think, concur in 
this opinion. 

Anecdotes are not wanting to show that even In the Sup- 
reme Court he argued some cases of great importance, without 
knowing any thing about them till the argument was com- 
menced. One of these savors of the ludicrous. Mr. Prentiss 
was retained, as associate counsel, with Mr. (now Gen.) M — 



HON. S. S. PEENTISS. 211 

at that time one of the most promising as now one of the 
most distinguished, lawyers in the State. During the session 
of the Supreme Court, at which the case was to come on, 
Mr. M — called Mr. P.'s attention to the case, and proposed 
examining the record together; but for some reason this was 
deferred for some time. At last it was agreed to examine 
into the case the night before the day set for the hearing. 
At the appointed time, Prentiss could not be found. Mr. 
M — was in great perplexity. The case was of great impor- 
tance; there were able opposing counsel, and his client and 
himself had trusted greatly to Mr. P.'s assistance. Prentiss 
appeared in the court-room when the case was called up. The 
junior counsel opened the case, reading slowly from the re- 
cord all that was necessary to give a clear perception of its 
merits; and made the points, and read the authorities he had 
collected. The counsel on the other side replied. Mr. P. 
rose to rejoin. The junior could scarcely conceal his appre- 
hensions. But there was no cloud on the brow of the speak- 
er; the consciousness of his power and of approaching vic- 
tory sat on his face. He commenced, as he always did, by 
stating clearly the case, and the questions raised by the facta. 
He proceeded to establish the propositions he contended for, 
by their reason, by authorities, and collateral analogies, and 
to illustrate them from his copious resources of comparison. 
He took up, one by one, the arguments on the other side, and 
showed their fallacy; he examined the authorities relied upon 
in the order in which they were introduced, and showed their 
inapplicability, and the distinction between the facts of the 



212 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

cases reported and those in the case at bar; then return- 
ing to the authorities of his colleague, he showed how clear- 
ly, in application and principle, they supported his own ar- 
gument. When he had sat down, his colleague declared 
that Prentiss had taught him more of the case than he had 
gathered from his own researches and reflection. 

Mr. Prentiss had scarcely passed a decade from his ma- 
jority when he was the idol of Mississippi. While absent 
from the state his name was brought before the people for 
Congress; the State then voting by general ticket, and elect- 
ing two members. He was elected, the sitting members 
declining to present themselves before the people, upon the 
claim, that they were elected at the special election, ordered 
by Governor Lynch, for two years, and not for the called 
session merely. Mr. Prentiss, with Mr. Word, his colleague 
went on to Washington to claim his seat. He was admitted 
to the bar oi' the Hou^e to defend and assert his right. He 
delivered then that speech which took the House and the 
country by storm; an effort which if his fame rested upon it 
alone, for its manliness of tone, exquisite satire, gorgeous 
imagery, and argumenrative power, would have rendered his 
name imperishable. The House, opposed to him as it was 
in political sentiment, reversed its former judgment, which 
declared Gholson and Claiborne entitled to their seats, and 
divided equally on the question of admitting Prentiss and 
Word. The speaker, however, gave the casting vote against 
the latter, and the election was referred back to the people. 

Mr. Prentiss addressed a circular to the voters of Mis- 



HON. S. S. PBET^TISS. 218 

sissippi, in which he announced his intention to canvass the 
State. The applause which greeted him at Washington, and 
which attended the speeches he was called on to make at the 
North, came thundering back to his adopted State. His 
friends — and their name was legion — thought before that hia 
talents were of the highest order; and when their judgments 
were thus confirmed — when they received the indorsement 
of such men as Clay, Webster, and Calhoun, they felt a kind 
of personal interest in him: he was their Prentiss. They 
had first discovered him — first brought him out — first pro- 
claimed his greatness. Their excitement knew no bounds. 
Political considerations, too, doubtless had their weight 
The canvass opened — it was less a canvass than an ovation. 
He went through the State — an herculean task — making 
speeches every day, except Sundays, in the sultry months of 
summer and fall. The people of all classes and both sexes 
turned out to hear him. He came, as he declared, less on 
his own errand than theirs, to vindicate a violated constitu- 
tion, to rebuke the insult to the honor and sovereignty of the 
State, to uphold the sacred right of the people to elect their 
own rulers. The theme was worthy of the orator, the ora- 
tor of the subject. 

This period may be considered the golden prime of the 
genius of Prentiss. His real effective greatness here attain- 
ed i.s culminating points. He had the whole State for his 
audience, the honor of the State for his subject. He came 
well armed and well equipped for the warfare. Not content with 
challenging his competitors to the field, he threw down the 



214 SKETCHES or THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

gauntlet to all comers. Party, or ambition, or some other 
motive, constrained several gentlemen — famous before, no- 
torious afterwards — to meet him. In every instance of 
such temerity, the opposer was made to bite the dust. 

The ladies surrounded the rostrum with their carriages 
and added, by their beauty, interest to the scene. There 
was no element of oratory that his genius did not supply. 
It was plain to see whence his boyhood had drawn its roman- 
tic inspiration. His imagination was colored and imbued with 
the light of the shadowy past, and was richly stored with the 
unreal but life-like creations, which the genius of Shakespeare 
and Scott had evoked from the ideal world. He had linger- 
ed, spell-bound, among the scenes of mediaeval chivalry. His 
spirit had dwelt, until almost naturalized, in the mystic 
dream-land they peopled — among paladins, and crusaders, 
and knights-templars; with Monmouth and Percy — with 
Bois-Gilbert and Ivanhoe, and the bold McGregor — with the 
cavaliers of Rupert, and the iron enthusiasts of Fairfax. As 
J udge Bullard remarks of him, he had the talent of an Italian 
improvisatore, and could speak the thoughts of poetry with the 
inspiration of oratory, and in the tones of music. The fluen- 
cy of his speech was unbroken— no syllable unpronounced — 
not a ripple on the smooth and brilliant tide. Probably he 
never hesitated for a word in his life. His diction adapted 
itself, without effort, to the thought; now easy and familiar, 
now stately and dignified, now beautiful and various as the 
hues of the rainbow, again compact, even rugged in sinewy 
strength, or lofty and grand in eloquent declamation. 



HON. S. S. PBENTIS8. 215 

His face and manner were alik© uncommon. The turn of 
the head was like Byron's; the face and the action were just 
what the mind made them. The excitement of the features, 
the motions of the head and body, the gesticulation he used, 
were all in absolute harmony with the words you heard. You 
saw and took cognizance of the general effect only; the par- 
ticular instrumentalities did not strike you; they certainly 
did not call off attention to themselves. How a countenance 
so redolent of good humor as his at times, could so soon be 
overcast, and express such intense bitterness, seemed a mar- 
|vel. But bitterness and the angry passions were, probably, 
as strongly implanted in him as any other sentiments or qual- 
ities. 

There was much about him to remind you of Byron: the 
cast of head — the classic features— the fiery and restive na- 
ture — the moral and personal daring — the imaginative and 
poetical temperament — the scorn and deep passion — the de- 
formity of which I have spoken — the satiric wit — the craving 
for excitement, and the air of melancholy he sometimes wore 
— his early neglect, and the imagined slights put upon him 
in his unfriended youth — the collisions, mental and physical, 
which he had with others — his brilliant and sudden reputa- 
tion, and the romantic interest which invested him, make up 
a list of correspondencies, still further increased, alas! by 
his untimely death. 

With such abilities as we have alluded to, and surround- 
ed by such circumstances, he prosecuted the canvass, making 
himself the equal favorite of all classes. Old democrats were, 



216 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

seen, with tears running down their cheeks, laughing hyster 
ically; and some, who, ever since the formation of parties, 
had voted the democratic ticket, from coroner up to governor, 
threw up their hats and shouted for him. He was returned 
to Congress by a large majority, leading his colleague, who 
ran on precisely the same question, more than a thousand 
votes. 

The political career of Mr. Prentiss after this time is 
matter of public history, and I do not propose to refer to it. 

After his return from Congress, Mr. Prentiss continued 
to devote himself to his profession; but, subsequently to 1841 
or 1842, he was more engaged in closing up his old business 
than in prosecuting new. Some year or tv/o afterv/ards, the 
suit which involved his fortune was determined against him 
in the Supreme Court of the United States; and he found 
himself by this event, aggravated as it was by his immense 
liabilities for others, deprived of the accumulations of years 
of successful practice, and again dependent upon his own ex- 
ertions for the support of himself and others now placed under 
his protection. In the mean time, the profession in Missis- 
sippi had become less remunerative, and more laborious. 
Bearing up with an unbroken spirit against adverse fortune, 
he determined to try a new theatre, where his talents might 
have larger scope. For this purpose, he removed to the city 
of New Orleans, and was admitted to the bar there. How 
rapidly he rose to a position among the leaders of that 
eminent bar, and how near he seemed to be to its first 
honors, the country knows. The energy with which he 



HON. S. S. PRENTISS. 317 

addressed himself to the task of mastering the peculiar 
jurisprudence of Louisiana, and the success with which his 
efforts were crowned, are not the least of the splendid 
achievements of this distinguished gentleman. 

The danger is not that we shall be misconstrued in regard 
to the rude sketch we have given of Mr. Prentiss in any such 
manner as to leave the impression that we are prejudiced 
against, or have underrated the character of, that gentleman. 
s are conscious of having written in no unkind or unloving 
ypirit of one whom, in life, v/e honored, and v. hose memory 
is still dear to us; the danger is elsewhere. It is two- 
lold: that we may be supposed to have assigned to Prentiss 
n higher order of abilities than he possessed; and, in the 

ond place, that we have presented, for undistinguishing 
adriiiraticn, a character, some of the elements of which do not 
deserve to be admired or imitated — and indeed, which are 
of most perilous example, especially to warm-blooded youth. 
As to the first objection, we feel sure that we are not mis- 
taken, and even did we distrust our own judgment we would 
be confirmed by Sharkey, Boyd, Wilkinson, Guigon, Quitman, 
to say nothing of the commendations of Clay, Webster, and 
Calhoun, " the immortal three," whose opinions as to Pren- 
tiss's talents would be considered extravagant if they did not 
carry with them the imprimatur of their own great names. 
But v/e confess to the danger implied in the second sugges- 
tion. With all our admiration for Prentiss — much as his 
memory is endeared to us — however the faults of his charac 
■ I and the irregularities of his life may be palliated by the 



218 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

peculiar circumstances which pressed upon idiosyncracles of 
temper and mind almost as peculiar as those circumstances, 
— it cannot be denied, and it ought not to be concealed, that 
the influence of Prentiss upon the men, especially upon 
the young men of this time and association, was hurtful. 
True, he had some attributes worthy of unlimited admiration, 
and he did some things which the best men might take as 
examples for imitation. He was a noble, whole-souled, mag- 
nanimous man: as pure of honor, as lofty in chivalric bear- 
ing as the heroes of romance: but, mixed with these bril- 
liant qualities, were vices of mind and habit, which those 
fascinating graces rendered doubly dangerous: for vice 
is more easily copied than virtue: and in the partnership 
between virtue and vice, vice subsidizes virtue to its uses. 
Prentiss lacked regular, self-denying, systematic application. 
He accomplished a great deal, but not a greal deal for his 
capital: if he did more than most men, he did less than the 
task of such a man: if he gathered much, he wasted and scat- 
tered more. He wanted the great essential element of a true, 
genuine, moral greatness: there v/as not — above his intellect 
— above his bright array of strong powers and glittering 
faculties — above the fierce hosts of passion in his soul — a 
presiding spirit of Duty. Life was no trust to him: it was 
a thing to be enjoyed — a bright holiday season — a gala day, 
to be spent freely and carelessly — a gift to be decked out 
with brilliant deeds and eloquent words and all gewgaws of 
fancy — and to be laid down bravely when the evening star 
should succeed the bright sun, and the dews begin to fall 



HON. S. S. PEENTISS. 219 

softly upon the green earth. True, he labored more than 
most men: but he labored as he frolicked — because his 
mind could not be idle, but burst into work as by the irre- 
pressible instinct which sought occupation as an outlet to in- 
tellectual excitement: but what he accomplished was nothing 
to the measure of his powers. He studied more than 
he seemed to study, — more, probably, than he cared to 
have it believed he studied. But he could accomplish 
with only slender effort, the end for which less gifted men 
must delve, and toil, and slave. But the imitators, the many 
youths of warm passions and high hopes, ambitious of dis- 
tinction — yet solicitous of pleasure — blinded by the glare of 
Prentiss's eloquence, the corruscations of a wit and fancy 
through which his speeches were borne as a stately ship 
through the phosphorescent waves of a tropical sea — what 
example was it to them to see the renown of the Forum, the 
eloquence of the Hustings, the triumphs of the Senate asso- 
ciated with the faro-table, the midnight revel, the drunken 
carouse, the loose talk of the board laden with wine and cards? 
What Prentiss effected they failed in compassing. Like a 
chamois hunter full of life, and vigor, and courage, support- 
ed by the spear of his genius — potent as Ithuriel's — Prentiss 
sprang up the steeps and leaped over the chasms on his way to 
the mount where the " proud temple " shines above cloud and 
storm; but mediocrity, in assaying to follow him, but made 
ridiculous the enterprise which only such a man with such 
aids could accomplish. And even he, not wisely or well: the 
penalty came at last, as it must ever come for a violation of 



220 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

natural and moral laws. He lived in pain and poverty droop- 
ing in spirit, exhausted in mind and body, to lament that 
wasting of life, and health, and genius, which, unwasted, in 
the heyday of existence, and in the meridian lustre of his un- 
rivalled powers, might have opened for himself and for his 
country a career of usefulness and just renown scarcely par- 
alleled by the most honored and loved of all the land. 

If to squander thus such rare gifts were a grievous fault, 
grievously hath this erring child of genius answered it. 
But painfully making this concession, forced alone by the 
truth, it is with pleasure we can say, thaTt, with this deduc- 
tion from Prentiss's claims to reverence and honor, there yet 
remains so much of force and of brilliancy in the character 
— so much that is honoiable, and noble, and generous— so 
much of a manhood whose robust and masculine virtues are 
set off by the wild and lovely graces that attempered and 
adorned its strength, that we feel drawn to it not less to ad- 
mire than to love. 

In the midst of his budding prospects, rapidly ripening 
into fruition, insidious disease assailed him. It was long 
hoped that the close and fibrous system, v/hich had, seem- 
ingly, defied all the laws of nature, would prove superior to 
this malady. His unconquerable will bore him up long 
against its attacks. Indeed it seemed that only death itself 
could subdue that fiery and unextinguishable energy. He 
made his last great effort, breathing in its feeble accents but 
a more touching and affecting pathos, and a more persuasive 
eloquence, in behalf of Lopez, charged with the offence of 



HON. S. S. PBENTISS. 2^1 

fitting out an expedition against Cuba. So weali was he, 
that he was compelled to deliver it in a sitting posture, and 
was carried, after its delivery, exhausted from the bar. 

Not long after this time, in a state of complete prostra- 
tion, he was taken, in a steamboat, from New-Orleans to 
Natchez, under the care of some faithful friends. The opi- 
ates given him, and the exhaustion of nature, had dethroned 
his imperial reason; and the great advocate talked wildly 
of some trial in which he supposed he was engaged. When 
he reached Natchez, he was taken to the residence of a re- 
lation, and from that time, only for a moment, did a glance 
of recognition fall — lighting up for an instant his pallid fea- 
tures — upon his wife and children, weeping around his bed. 

On the morning of died this remarkable man, in the 

42d year of his age. What he ivas, we know. What he 
might have J)ee)u after a mature age and a riper wisdom, we 
cannot tell. But that he was capable of commanding the 
loftiest heights of fame, and marking his name and charac- 
ter upon the age he lived in, we verily believe. 

But he has gone. He died, and lies buried near that 
noble river v/hich first, v/hen a raw Yankee boy, caught 
his poetic eye, and stirred, by its aspect of grandeur, his 
sublime imagination: upon whose shores first fell his burn- 
ing and impassioned words as they aroused the rapturous 
applause of his astonished auditors. And long will that 
noble river flow cm its tide into the gulf, ere the roar of 
ics current shall mingle with the tones of such elociuence 
again — eloquence as full and majestic, as resistless and sub- 



222 SKETCHES OF THE FLySH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

lime, and as wild in its sweep as its own sea-like flood, 

"the mightiest river 

Rolls mingling with his fame for ever." 

The tidings of his death came like wailing over the State, 
and we all heard them, as the toll of the bell for a brother's 
funeral. The chivalrous felt, when they heard that '* young 
Harry Percy's spur was cold," that the world had somehow 
grown commonplace; and the men of wit and genius, or 
those who could appreciate such qualities in others, looking 
over the surviving bar, exclaimed with a sigh — 

* The blaze of wit, the flash of bright intelligence, 
The beam of social eloquence, 
Sunk with his sun." 



THE BAR OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 223 



THE BAE OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 

The citizens of an old country are very prone to consider the 
people of a newly settled State or Territory as greatly their 
inferiors: just as old men are apt to consider those younger 
than themselves, and who have grown up under their obser- 
vation, as t?ieir inferiors. It is a very natural sentiment. 
It is flattering to pride, and it tickles the vanity of senility 
— individual and State — to assign this status of elevation 
to self, and this consequent depression to others. Accord- 
ingly, the Englishman looks upon the American as rather a 
green-horn, gawky sort of a fellow, infinitely below the stand- 
ard of John Bull in every thing, external and internal, of 
character and of circumstance; and no amount of licking 
can thrash the idea out of him. As Swedenborg says of 
some religious dogmas held by certain bigots — it is glued 
to his brains. So it is with our own people. The Bosto- 
nian looks down upon the Virginian — the Virginian on the 
Tennesseeian — the Tennesseeian on the Alabamian — the Al- 
abamian on the Mississippian — the Mississippian on the 
Louisianian — the Louisianian on the Texian — the Texian on 



224 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

New Mexico, and, we suppose, New Mexico on Pandemo- 
nium. 

It may be one of the perversions of patriotism, to create 
and foster invidious and partial discriminations between dif- 
ferent countries, and betv/een different sections of the same 
country: and especially does this prejudice exist and deepen 
with a people stationary and secluded in habit and position. 
But travel, a broader range of inquiry and observation, more 
intimate associations and a freer correspondence, begetting 
larger and more cosmopolitan views of men and things, serve 
greatly to soften these prejudices, even where they are not 
entirely removed. That there is some good country even 
beyond the Chinese wall, and that all not within that bar- 
rier are not quite " outside barbarians," the Celestials them- 
selves are beginning to acknowledge. 

There is no greater error than that which assigns inferi- 
ority to the bar of the South-West, in comparison with that 
or any other section of the same extent in the United States. 
Indeed, it is our honest conviction that the profession in the 
States of Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, 
are not equalled, as a whole, by the same number of lav/- 
yers in any other quarter of the Union, — certainly in no 
other quarter where commerce is no more various and large- 
ly pursued. 

The reasons for this opinion wo proceed to give. The 
most conclusive mode of establishing this proposition would 
probably be by comparison; but this, from the nature of the 
case, is impossible. The knowledge of facts and men is 



THE BAR OF THE SOrXH-WEST. 09 5 

wanting, ancl even if possessed by any capable of institut- 
ing the comparison, the decision v/oiild, at last, be only an 
opinion, and would carry but little weight, even if the capa- 
city and fairness of the critic v/ere duly authenticated to the 
reader. 

It is a remarkable fact, that the great men of every State 
in the Union, were those men who figured about the time of 
the organization and the settling down of their several judi- 
cial systems into definite shape and character. Not taking 
into the account the Revolutionary era — unquestionably the 
most brilliant intellectual period of our history — let us look 
to that period Avhich succeeded the turmoil, embarrassment 
and confusion of the Revolution, and of the times of civil 
agitation and contention next following, and out of which 
arose our present constitution. The first thing our fathers 
did was to get a country; then to fix on it the character 
of government it was to have; then to make laws to 
carry it on and achieve its objects. The men, as a class, v/ho 
did all this, were lawyers: their labors in founding and start- 
ing into motion our constitutions and laws were great and 
praiseworthy: but after setting the government agoing, there 
was much more to do; and this was to give the right direc- 
tion and impress to its jurisprudence. The Statutes of a 
free country are usually but a small part of the body of its 
lav;— and the common law of England, itself but a judicial 
enlargement and adaptation of certain vague and rude prin- 
ciples of jurisprudence to new wants, new necessities and 
exigencies, was a light rather than a guide, to the judges of 



236 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

our new systems, called to administer justice under new and 
widely different conditions and circumstances. The greatest 
talent was necessary for these new duties. It required the 
nicest discrimination and the soundest judgment to determine 
what parts of the British system were opposed to the genius 
of the new constitution, and what parts were inapplicable by 
reason of new relations or differing circumstances. The 
great judicial era of the United States — equally great in bar 
and bench — was the first quarter of this century. And it is 
a singular coincidence that this was the case in nearly every, 
if not in every, State. Those were the days of Marshall and 
Story and Parsons, of Kent and Thompson and Roane, of 
Smith and Wythe and Jay, and many other fixed planets of 
the judicial system, while the whole horizon, in every part 
of the extended cycle, was lit up by stars worthy to revolve 
around and add light to such luminaries. Mr. Webster de- 
clared that the ablest competition he had met with, in his 
long professional career, was that he encountered at the rude 
provincial bar of back-woods New Hampshire in his earlier 
practice. 

And this same remarkable preeminence has characterized 
the bar of every new State when, or shortly after emerging 
from, its territorial condition and first crude organization; 
the States of Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, Mississippi 
and Louisiana forcibly illustrate this truth, and we have no 
question but that Texas and California are affording new ex- 
positions of its correctness. 

A fact so uniform in its existence, must have some solid 



THE BAR OF THE SOtJTH-WEST. 227 

principle for its cause. This principle we shall seek to ascer- 
tain. It is the same influence, in a modified form, which partly 
discovers and partly creates great men in times of revolution. 
Men are fit for more and higher uses than they are commonly 
put to. The idea that genius is self-conscious of its powers, 
and that men naturally fall into the position for which they 
are fitted, we regard as by no means an universal truth, if 
any truth at all. Who believes that Washington ever dream- 
ed of his capacity for the great mission he so nobly accom- 
plished, before with fear and trembling, he started out on its 
fulfilment? Probably the very ordeal through which he 
passed to greatness purified and qualified him for the self-de- 
nial and self-conquest, the patience and the fortitude, which 
made its crowning glory. To be great, there must be a great 
work to be done. Talents alone are not distinction. For 
the Archimedean work, there must be a fulcrum as well 
as a lever. Great abilities usually need a great stimulus. 
What dormant genius there is in every country, may be 
known by the daily examples of a success, of which there was 
neither early promise nor early expectation. 

In a new country the political edifice, like all the rest, 
must be built from the ground up. Where nothing is at 
hand, every thing must be made. There is work for all and 
a necessity for all to work. There is almost perfect equality. 
All have an even start and an equal chance. There are few 
or no factitious advantages. The rewards of labor and skill 
are not only certain to come, but they are certain to come at 
once. There Is no long and tedious novitiate. Talent ant! 



228 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA- 



♦ 



energy are not put in quarantine, and there is no privileged 
inspector to place his iTtipriynatur of acceptance or rejec- 
tion upon thorn. An emigrant community is necessarily a 
practical community; wants come before luxuries— things 
take precedence of words; the necessaries that support life 
precede the arts and elegancies that embellish it, A man 
of great parts may miss his way to greatness by frittering 
away his powers upon non-essentials — upon the style and 
finish of a thing rather than upon its strength and utility — 
upon modes rather ihan upon ends. To direct strength 
aright, the aim is as essential as the power. But above all 
things, success more depends upon self-confidence than any 
thing else; talent muse go in partnership with will or it can- 
not do a business of profit. Erasmus and Melancthon were 
the equals of Luther in the closet; where else were 
they his equals? And where can a man get this self-reliance 
so well as in a new country, where he is thrown upon his 
own resources; where his only friends are his talents; 
where he sees energy leap at once into prominence; where 
those only are above him whose talents are above his; 
where there is no prestige of rank, or ancestry, or 
wealth, or past reputation — and no family influence, or de- 
pendants, or patrons; where the stranger of yesterday is 
the man of mark to-day; Vvhere a single speech. may win 
position, to be lost by a failure the day following; and 
where amidst a host of competitors in an open field of ri- 
valry, every man of the same profession enters the course 
with a race-horse emulation, to win the prize which is glitter- 



THE BAK OF THE SOUTH-M'EST. 239 

ing within sight of the rivals. There is no stopping in such 
a crowd: he who does not go ahead is run over and trodden 
down. How much of success waits on opportunity! True, 
the highest energy may make opportunity; but how much 
of real talent is associated only with that energy which ap- 
propriates, but which is not able to create, occasions for its 
display. Does any one doubt that if Daniel Webster had 
accepted the $1,500 clerkship in New Hampshire, he would 
not have been Secretary of State? Or if Henry Clay had 
been so unfortunate as to realize his early aspirations of 
earning in some back-woods county his $333 33 per annum. 
is it so clear that Senates would have hung upon his lips, or 
Supreme Courts been enlightened by his wisdom? 

The exercise of our faculties not merely better enables 
us to use them — it strengthens them as much; the strength 
lies as much in the exercise as in the muscle; and the earlier 
the exercise, after the muscle can stand it, the greater the 
strength. 

Unquestionably there is something in the atmosphere of 
a new people which refreshes, vivifies and vitalizes thought, 
and gives freedom, range and energy to action. It is the 
natural effect of the law of liberty. An old society weaves 
a netvvork of restraints and habits around a man; the 
chains of habitude and mode and fashion fetter him: he is 
cramped by influence, prejudice, custom, opinion; he lives 
under a feeling of surveillance and under a sense of espion- 
age. He takes the law from those above him. Wealth, 
family, influence, class, caste, fashion, coterie and adventi- 



230 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA- 

tlous circumstances of all sorts, *in a greater or less degree, 
trammel him; lie acts not so much from his own will and in 
his own way, as from the force of these arbitrary influences; 
his thoughts and actions do not keep out directly from their 
only legitimate head spring, but flow feebly in serpentine and 
impeded currents, through and around all these impediments. 
The character necessarily becomes, in some sort, artificial 
and conventional; less bold, simple, direct, earnest and natu- 
ral, and, therefore, less effective. 

What a man does well he must do with freedom. He 
can no more speak in trammels than he can walk in chains 
and he must learn to think freely before he can speak freely. 
He must have his audience in his mind before he has it in 
his eyes. He must hold his eyes level upon the court or jury 
— not raised in reverence nor cast down in fear. For the 
nonce, the speaker is the teacher. He must not be sifting 
his discourse for deprecating epithets or propitiating terms, 
nor be seeking to avoid being taken up and shaken by some 
rough senior, nor be afraid of being wearisome to the audi- 
ence or disrespectful to superiors: bethinking him of expo- 
sure and dreading the laugh or the sneer, v/hen the bold 
challenge, the quick retort, the fresh thought, the indignant 
crimination, the honest fervor, and the vigorous argument 
are needed for his cause. To illustrate what we mean — let 
us take the case of a young lawyer just come to the bar of 
an old State. Let us suppose that he has a case to argue. 
He is a young man of talent, of course— a?? are. Who 
make his audience? The old judge who, however mild a 



THE BAB OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 231 

mannered man he may be, the youth has looked on, from his 
childhood, as the most awful of all the sons of men. Who 
else? The old seniors whom he has been accustomed to re- 
gard as the ablest and wisest lawyers in the world, and the 
most terrible satirists that ever snapped sinews and dislocat- 
ed joints and laid bare nerves on the rack of their merciless 
wit. The jury of sober-sided old codgers, who have known 
him from a little boy, and have never looked on him except 
as a boy, most imprudently diverted by parental vanity from 
the bellows or the plough-handles, to be fixed as a cannister 
to the dog's tail that fag-ends the bar: — that jury look upon 
him — as he rises stammering and floundering about, like a 
badly-trained pointer, running in several directions, seeking 
to strike the cold trail of an idea that had run through his 
brain in the enthusiasm of ambitious conception the night 
before: — these, his judges, look at him or from him with 
mingled pity and wonder; his fellow-students draw back 
from fear of being brought into misprision and complicity of 
getting him into this insane presumption; and, after a few 
awkward attempts to propitiate the senior, who is to follow 
him, he catches a view of the countenances of the old fogies 
in whose quiet sneers he reads his death-warrant; and, at 
length, he takes his seat, as the crowd rush up to the vete- 
ran who is to do him — like a Spanish rabble to an auto da 
fe. What are his feelings? What or who can describe his 
mortification? What a vastation of pride and self-esteem 
that was? The speech he made was not the speech he had 
conceived. The speech he had in him he did not deliver; he 



2S2 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



"aborted'' it, and instead of the anticipated pride and joy of 
maternity, iie feels only the guilt and the shame of infanticide. 

Alack-a-day! Small is the sum of sympathy which is 
felt by the mass of men for the woes and wounds of juve- 
nile vanity and especially for the woes of professional vanity. 
From the time of Swift, who pilloried Bettsworth to eter- 
nal ridicule, and of Cobbett, who, with rude contempt, 
scoifed at the idea of being blamed for " crushing a law- 
yer in the egg," but few tears of commiseration have been 
shea lor tne poor '•Wind-seller," cut down in his raw and 
callow youiii. And, yet, 1 cannot help, for the soul of me, 
the v\eaKness waich comes inio my eyes, when 1 see, as 1 
icaoe seen, a gallant youth, tuli of arclor and hope, let down, 
a aeau laiiure, — on nis nrst trial over the rough course of 
liie law. 'ihe head hung down — the cowed look of timid 
depiecation — the aesponaing carriage — cell a story of deep 
wounds of spirit — of hopes overcast, and energies subdued, 
and pride humbled — which touches me deeply. I pictuFe 
him in the recesses of his chamber, wearing through the 
weary watches of the night — grinding his teeth in impatient 
anguiah, — groaning sorrowfully and wetting his pillow with 
bitter tears — cursing his folly, and infatuation, and his hard 
fate — envying the hod-carrier the sure success of his humbler 
lot, and his security against the ill fortune of a shameful fail- 
ure, where failure was exposed presumption. 

I have felt, in the intensity of my concern for such an 
one, like hazarding the officiousness of going to him, and ad- 
vising him to abandon the hang-dog trade, and hide his 
shame in some obscurer and honest pursuit. 



THE BAB OF THE SOUTH-WEBT. 233 

And, rough senior, my dear brother, think of these 
things when your fingers itch to wool one of the tender neo- 
phytes — and forbear. I crave no quarter for the lawyer, 
full-grown or half-grown; he can stand peppering — it is his 
vocation, Hal — he is paid for it; but for the lawyerling I 
plead; and to my own urgency in his behalf, I add the 
pathetic plea of the gentle Elia in behalf of the roast-pig — 
" Barbecue your whole hogs to your palate, steep them in 
shalots, stuff them with the plantations of the rank and 
guilty garlic; you cannot poison them or make them stronger 
than they are — but consider, he is a weakling — a flower." 

But revenons d nos moutons. 

But suppose the debutant does better than this; suppose 
he lets himself out fully and fearlessly, and has something 
in him to let out; and suppose he escapes the other danger 
of being ruined by presumption, real or supposed; he is 
duly complimented: — "he is a young man of promise — 
there is some 'come out' to that young man; some day he 
will be something — if — if" two or three peradventures don't 
happen to him. If he is proud, — as to be able to have ac- 
complished all this he must be, — such compliments grate 
more harshly than censure. He goes back to the office; 
but where are the clients? They are a slow-moving race, 
and confidence in a young lawyer '* is a plant of slow growth." 
Does he get his books and "scorn delights and live labori- 
ous days," for the prospect of a remote and contingent, and 
that at best, but a poorly remunerating success? Does he 
cool his hot blood In the ink of the Black-letter, and spin 



234 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

his toils with the Industry and forethought of the patient 
spider that Is to be remunerated next fly-season, for her 
pains, and sit, like that collecting attorney, at the door of 
the house, waiting and watching until then, for prey? If 
so, he is a hero indeed; but what years of the flower of his 
life are not spent in waiting for the prosperous future, in the 
vague preparation which is not associated with, or stimulated 
by, a present use for, and direct application to a tangible 
purpose, of what he learns! Where one man of real merit 
succeeds, how many break down In the training; and even 
where success is won, how much less that success than where 
talent, like Pitt's, takes its natural position at the start, and, 
stimulated to its utmost exercise, fights its way from its first 
strivings to its ultimate triumphs — each day a day of ac- 
tivity and every week a trial of skill and strength; learning 
all of law that is evolved from ,its practice, and forced to 
know something, at least, of what the books teach of It; 
and getting that larger and better knowledge of men which 
books cannot impart, and that still more important self- 
knowledge, of which experience is the only schoolmaster. 

In the new country, there are no seniors: the bar Is all 
Young America. If the old fogies come in, they must stand 
in the class with the rest, if, indeed, they do not " go foot." 
There were many evils and disadvantages arising from this 
want of standards and authority in and over the bar — many 
and great — but they were not of long continuance, and were 
more than counterbalanced by opposite benefits. 

It strikes me that the career of Warren Hastings illus- 



THE BAR OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 235 

trates my idea of the influence of a new country and of a 
new and responsible position over the character of men of 
vigorous parts. In India, new to English settlement and 
institutions, he well earned the motto, ''Mens wqua in 
arduis," inscribed over his portrait in the council chamber 
of Calcutta: but after he returned to England, amidst the 
difficulties of his impeachment, his policy ignored all his 
claims to greatness, had it alone been considered: the genius 
that expatiated over and permeated his broad policy on the 
plains of Hindostan seemed stifled in the conventional at- 
mosphere of St. Stephen's. 

While we think that the influence of the new country 
upon the intellect of the professional emigre was highly 
beneficial, we speak, we hope, with a becoming distrust, of 
its moral effect. We might, in a debating club, tolerate 
some scruple of a doubt, whether this violent disruption of 
family ties — this sudden abandonment of the associations 
and influence of country and of home — of the restraints of 
old authority and of opinion — and this sudden plunge into 
the whirling vortex of a new and seething population — in 
which the elements were curiously and variously mixed with 
free manners and not over-puritanic conversation — were 
efficient causes of moral improvement: we can tolerate a 
doubt as to whether the character of a young man might not 
receive something less than a pious impression, under these 
circumstances and temptations, when that character was in its 
most malleable and fusible state. But we leave this moral 
problem to be solved by those better able to manage it, with 



236 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

this single observation, that if the subject were able to 
stand the trial, his moral constitution, like his physical after 
an attack of yellow fever, would be apt to be the better for 
it. We cannot, however, in conscience, from what we have 
experienced of a new country v/ith " flush fixins " annexed, 
advise the experiment. We have known it to fail. And 
probably more of character would have been lost if more 
had been put at hazard. 

In trying to arrive at the character of the South-West- 
ern bar, its opportunities and advantages for improvement 
are to be considered. It is not too much to say that, in 
the United States at least, no bar ever had such, or so 
many: it might be doubted if they were ever enjoyed to the 
same extent before. Consider that the South-West was the 
focus of an emigration greater than any portion of the coun- 
try ever attracted, at least, until the golden magnet drew 
its thousands to the Pacific coast. But the character of the 
emigrants was not the same. Most of the gold-seekers were 
mere gold-diggers — not bringing property, but coming to 
take it away. Most of those coming to the South-West 
brought property — many of them a great deal. Nearly 
every man was a speculator; at any rate, a trader. The 
treaties with the Indians had brought large portions of the 
States of Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana into mar- 
ket; and these portions, comprising some of the most fertile 
lands in the world, were settled up in a hurry. The Indians 
claimed lands under these treaties — the laws granting pre- 
emption rights to settlers on the public lands, were to be 



THE BAB OP THE SOUTH-WEST. 237 

construed, and the litigation growing out of them settled, 
the public lands, afforded a field for unlimited speculation, 
and combinations of purchasers, partnerships, land compa- 
nies, agencies, and the like, gave occasion to much dlQcult 
litigation in after times. Negroes were brought into the 
country in large numbers and sold mostly upon credit, and 
bills of exchange taken for the price, the negroes in many 
instances were unsound — to some the title was defec- 
tive; some falsely pretended to be unsound, and various 
questions as to the liability of parties on the warranties and 
the bills, furnished an important addition to the litigation: 
many land titles were defective; property was brought from 
other States clogged with trusts, limitations, and uses, to be 
construed according to the lav/s of the State from which it 
was brought: claims and contracts made elsev/here to be en- 
forced here: universal indebtedness, which the hardness of 
the times succeeding made it impossible for many men to 
pay, and desirable for all to escape paying: hard and ruin- 
ous bargains, securityships, judicial sales; a general loose- 
ness, ignorance, and carelessness in the public ofRcers in 
doing business; new statutes to be construed; official lia- 
bilities, especially those of sheriffs, to be enforced; banks, 
the laws governing their contracts, proceedings against 
them for forfeiture of character; trials of right of property; 
an elegant assortment of frauds constructive and actual; and 
the whole system of chancery law and admiralty proceed- 
ings; in short, all the flood-gates of litigation were opened. 
and the pent-up tide let loose upon the country. And such 



238 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

a criminal docket! What country could boast more largely 
of its crime? What more splendid role of felonies! 
What more terrific murders! What more gorgeous bank 
robberies! What more magnificent operations in the land 
offices! Such McGregor-like levies of black mail, individual 
and corporate! Such superb forays on the treasuries, State 
and National! Such expert transfers of balances to undis- 
covered bournes! Such august defalcations! Such flour- 
ishes of rhetoric on ledgers auspicious of gold which had 
departed for ever from the vault. And in Indian affairs! — 
the very mention is suggestive of the poetry of theft — the 
romance of a wild and weird larceny! What sublime con- 
ceptions of super-Spartan roguery! Swindling Indians by 
the nation! {Spirit of Falstaff, rap!) Stealing their land 
by the township! (Dick Turpin and Jonathan Wild! 
tip the tahle!) Conducting the nation to the Mississippi 
river, stripping them to the flap, and bidding them God 
speed as they went howling into the Western wilderness to 
the friendly agency of some sheltering Suggs duly empow- 
ered to receive their coming annuities and back rations! 
What's Hounslow heath to this? Who Carvajal? Who 
Count Boulbon? 

And all these merely forerunners, ushering in the Mil- 
lennium of an accredited, official Repudiation; and it but 
vaguely suggestive of what men could do when opportunity 
and capacity met — as shortly afterwards they did — under 
the Upas-shade of a perjury-breathing bankrupt law! — But 
we forbear. The contemplation of such hyperboles of men- 



THE BAB OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 239 

dacity stretches the imagination to a dangerous tension. 
There was no end to the amount and variety of lawsuits, 
and interests involved in every complication and of enor- 
mous value were to be adjudicated. The lawyers were com- 
pelled to work, and were forced to learn the rules that were 
involved in all this litigation. 

Many members of the bar, of standing and character, 
from the other States, flocked in to put their sickles into 
this abundant harvest. Virginia, Kentucky, North Carolina 
and Tennessee contributed more of these than any other four 
States; but every State had its representatives. 

Consider, too, that the country was not so new as the 
practice. Every State has its peculiar tone or physiognomy, 
so to speak, of jurisprudence imparted to it, more or less, 
by the character and temper of its bar. That had yet to be 
given. Many questions decided in older States, and differ- 
ently decided in different States, were to be settled here; 
and a new state of things, peculiar in their nature, called 
for new rules or a modincation of old ones. The members 
of the bar from different States had brought their various 
notions, impressions and knowledge of their own judicature 
along with them; and thus all the points, dicta, rulings, off- 
shoots, quirks and quiddities of all the law, and lawing, and 
law-mooting of all the various judicatories and their satel- 
lites, were imported into the new country and tried on the 
new jurisprudence. 

After the crash came in 1837 — (there were some pre- 
monitory fits lefore, but then the great convulsion came on) 



240 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

— all the assets of the country were marshalled, and the su- 
ing material of all sorts, as fast as it could be got out, put in- 
to the hands of the workmen. Some idea of the business may 
be got from a fact or two: in the county of Sumpter, Ala- 
bama, in one year, some four or five thousand suits, in the 
common-law courts alone, were brought; but in some other 
counties the number was larger; while in the lower or river 
counties of Mississippi, the number was at least double. 
The United States Courts were equally well patronized in 
proportion — indeed, rather more so. The white suable pop- 
ulation of Sumpter was then some 2,400 men. It was a merry 
time for us craftsmen; and vve brightened up mightily, and 
shook our quills joyously, like goslings in the midst of a 
shower. V/e look back to that good time, " now past and 
gone," with the pious gratitude and serene satisfaction with 
which the wreckers near the Florida Keys contemplate the 
last fine storm. 

It was a pleasant sight to professional eyes to see a whole 
people let go all holds and meaner business, and move off to 
court, like the Calif ornians and Australians to the mines: 
the " pockets " were picked in both cases. As law and law- 
ing soon got to be the staple productions of the country, the 
people, as a whole the most intelligent — in the wealthy coun- 
ties — of the rural population of the United States, and, as a 
part, the keenest in all creation, got very well " up to trap " 
in law matters; indeed, they soon knew more about the del- 
icate mysteries of the law, than it behooves an honest man to 
know. 



THE BAR OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 241 

The necessity for labor and the habit of taking diflaculties 
by the horns is a wonderful help to a man; no one knows 
what he can accomplish until he tries his best; or how firm- 
ly he can stand on his own legs when he has no one to lean 
on. 

The range of practice was large. The lawyer had to 
practise in all sorts of courts, State and Federal, inferior and 
Supreme. He had the bringing up of a lawsuit, from its 
birth in the writ to its grave in the sheriff's docket. Even 
when not concerned in his own business, his observation was 
employed in seeing the business of others going on; and the 
general excitement on th^ subject of law and litigation, tak- 
ing the place, in the partial suspension of other business, of 
other excitements, supplied the usual topics of general, and, 
more especially, of professional conversation. If he follow- 
ed the circuit, he was always in law: the temple of Themis, 
like that of Janus in war, was always open. 

The bar of every country is, in some sort, a representa- 
tive of the character of the people of which it is so important an 
" institution." We have partly shown what this character was: 
after the great Law revival had set in, the public mind had got 
to be as acute, excited, inquisitive on the subject of law, as that 
of Tennessee or Kentucky on politics: every man knew a lit- 
tle and many a great deal on the subject. The people soon 
began to find out the capacity and calibre of the lawyers. 
Besides, the multitude and variety of lawsuits produced 
their necessary effect. The talents of the lawyers soon adapt- 
ed themselves to the nature and exigencies of the service re- 



242 SKETCHES OF TILE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

quired of them, and to the tone and temper of the juries 
and public. Law had got to be an every-day, practical, com- 
mon-place, business-like affair, and it had to be conducted in 
the same spirit on analogous principles. Readiness, preci- 
sion, plainness, pertinency, knowledge of law, and a short-hand 
method of getting at and getting through with a case, were the 
characteristics and desiderata of the profession. There was no 
time for wasting words, or for manceuvring and skirmishing 
about a suit; there was no patience to be expended on exor- 
diums and perorations: few jurors were to be humbugged 
by demagogical appeals; and the audience were more con- 
cerned to know what was to become of the negroes in suit, 
than to see the flights of an ambitious rhetoric, or to have 
their ears fed with vain repetitions, mock sentimentality, or 
tumid platitudes. To start in medias res — to drive at the 
centre — to make the home-thrust — to grasp the hinging point 
— to give out and prove the law, and to reason strongly on 
the facts — to wrestle with the subject Indian-hug fashion — 
to speak in plain English and fervid, it mattered not how 
rough, were the qualities required; and these qualities were 
possessed in an eminent degree. 

Most questions litigated are questions of law: in nine 
cases out of ten tried, the jury, if intelligent and impartial, 
have no difficulty in deciding after the law has been plainly 
given them by the court: there is nothing for the jury to do 
but to settle the facts, and these are not often seriously con- 
troverted, in proportion to the number of cases tried in a 
new country; and the habit of examining carefully, and ar- 



THE BAB OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 243 

guing fully, legal propositions, is the habit which makes the 
lawyer. Nothing so debilitates and corrupts a healthy taste 
and healthy thought, as the habit of addressing ignorant ju- 
ries; it corrupts style and destroys candor; it makes a speech, 
which ought to be an enlightened exposition of the legal merits 
of a cause, a mere mass of " skimble skamble stuff," a com- 
pound of humbug, rant, cant and hypocrisy, of low demago- 
guism and flimsy perversions — of interminable wordiness and 
infinite repetition, exaggeration, bathos and vituperation — 
frequently of low wit and buffoonery — which " causes the 
judicious to grieve," " though it splits the ears of the ground- 
lings." We do not say that the new bar was free from these 
traits and vices: by no manner of means: but I do say that 
they were, as a class, much freer than the bar of the older 
States out of the commercial cities. The reason is plain: 
the new dogs hadn't learned the old tricks; and if they had 
tricks as bad, it was a great comfort that they did not have 
the same. If we had not improvement, we had, at least, va- 
riety; but, v/e think, we had improvement. 

There was another thing: the bar and the community — 
as all emigrant communities — were mostly young, and the 
young men cannot afford to play the pranks which the old 
fogies safely play behind the domino of an established repu- 
tation. What is ridiculous, in itself or in a young man, may 
be admired, or not noticed, in an older leader with a prescrip- 
tive title to cant and humbug; it is lese majesty to take him 
off, but the juniors with us had no such immunity. If he 
tried such tricks he heard of it again; it was rehearsed in 



244 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

his presence for his benefit — if he made himself very ridicu- 
lous, he was carried around the circuit, like a hung jury in 
old times, for the especial divertisement of the brethren. A 
respectable old snob like Mr. Buzzfuz, shrouded like Jack 
the Giant Killer, in a mantle of dignity that forbade approach, 
if it did not hide the wearer from attack, never could hear 
v/hat his " d— d good-natured friend " thought of his perform- 
ances in the department of humbug or cant; but this was, 
by no means, the case with such an one in our younger com- 
munity. 

Again, it is flattering to human nature to know that these 
forensic tricks are not spontaneous but acquired, and a young 
bar cannot, all at once, acquire them. It requires experi- 
ence, and a monstrous development of the organs of Reve- 
rence and Marvellousness in the audience to practise them 
with any hope of success, and these bumps were almost en- 
tirely wanting in the craniums of the new population around, 
all of whose eye-teeth were fully cut, and who, standing 
knee-deep in exploded humbugs, seemed to wear their eyes 
stereotyped into a fixed, unwinking qui vive: the very ex- 
pression of their countenances seemed to be articulate with 
the interrogatory, " who is to be picked up next?" It stops 
curiously the flow of the current when the humbugger sees 
the intended humbuggee looking him, with a quizzical 'cute- 
ness, in the eye, and seeming to say by the expression of his 
own, " Squire, do you see any thing green here?" 

The business of court-house speaking began to grow too 
common and extensive to excite public interest; the novelty 



THE BAK OF THE SOUTH-\N EST. 245 

Of the tliiug, after a while, wore off. A stream of sound 
poured over the land like the trade winds; men now, as a 
general thing, only came to court because thej^ had business 
there, and staid only until it was accomplished. It is other- 
wise in the old country as it had been in the new. It is one 
of the phenomena of mind that quiet and otherwise sensible 
men, come from their homes to the county seat to listen to 
the speeches of the lawyers, — looking over the bar and 
dropping the under jaw in rapt attention, when some foren- 
sic Boreas is blowing away at a case in which they have no 
interest or concern, deserting, for this queer divertisement, 
the splitting of their rails and their attention to their bul- 
locks; or, if they needed some relaxation from such pursuits, 
neglecting their arm-chairs in the passage with the privilege 
of reading an old almanac or listening to the wind whistling 
through the key-hole. Where a thing gets to be a work-day 
and common-place affair, it is apt to be done in a common- 
place way, and the parade, tinsel, and fancy fireworks of a 
holiday exercise or a gala-day fete are apt to be omitted 
from the bill and the boards. 

It is a great mistake to suppose that a lawyer's strength 
lies chiefly in his tongue; it is in the preparation of his 
case — in knowing what makes the case — in stating the case 
accurately in the papers, and getting out and getting up the 
proofs. It requires a good lawyer to make a fine argument; 
but he is a better lawyer who saves the necessity of making 
a fine argument, and prevents the possibility of his adversa- 
ry's making one. 



246 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

These practical requirements and habits had the effect 
of driving from the bar that forensic nuisance, "a pretty 
speaker;" Fourth-of-Julyisms fled to the stump or the na- 
tional anniversary barbecues; they were out of place in 
those prosaic times and proceedings. A veteran litigant 
having a tough lawsuit, had as little use for a flowery orator, 
letting off his fancy pyrotechnics, as he had for Juno's team 
of peacocks for hauling his cotton to market. 

Between the years 1833 and 1845, the bar was most nu- 
merous, and, we think, on the whole, most able. The Su- 
preme Court bar of Mississippi was characterized by signal 
ability. It may well be doubted if so able and efficient a 
bar ever existed at any one period of the same duration, in 
a Southern State: not that the bar was made up of Wick- 
hams, Leighs, Johnsons, and Stanards, nor of Clays, Crit- 
tendens. Rowans, and Wickliffes; nor, possibly, that there 
were any members of the Jackson bar equal to these great 
names of the Richmond and Frankfort bars; yet those who 
have heard the best efforts of Prentiss, Holt, Walker, Yer- 
ger, Mays, and Boyd, may be allowed to doubt the justness 
of that criticism which would deny a place to them among 
lawyers even so renowned as the shining lights of the Vir- 
ginia and Kentucky forums. But we meant to say, that it 
this claim be ignored, yet the Mississippi bar, if not so dis- 
tinguished for individual eminence, made up the deficiency 
by a more generally-diffused ability, and a larger number 
of members of inferior, though only a shade inferior, dis- 
tinction. ^ 



THE BAR OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 247 

As some proof of the ability of tiie South-western bar, it 
may be stated, that, we had not nnfrequently an advent into 
the new country of lawyers of considerable local reputation 
in the older States — men who, in their own bailiwicks, were 
mighty men of war — so distinguished, indeed, that on the 
first bruiting of a lawsuit, the litigants, without waiting for 
the ferry-boat, would swim Tar river, or the Pedee, or 
French Broad, to get to them, under the idea that who got 
to them first would gain the case. But after the first bustle 
of their coming with the foxfire of their old reputations 
sticking to their gowns, it was generally found, to the utter 
amazement of their friends who had known them in the old 
country, that the new importation v/ould not suit the market. 
They usually fell back from the position at first courteously 
tendered them, and, not nnfrequently, receded until, worked 
out of profitable practice, they took their places low down 
in the list, or were lost behind the bar, among the spectators. 
There is something doubtless in transplantation — something 
in racing over one's own training-paths — something in first 
firing with a rest, and then being compelled to fire off-hand 
amid a general flutter and confusion; but, making all this 
allowance, it hardly accounts fully for the result. For we 
know that others, against these disadvantages, sustained 
themselves. 

Nor was there, nor is there, any bar that better illus- 
trates the higher properties or nobler characteristics v/hich 
have, in every State, so much ennobled the profession of the 
law, than that of the South-West, a class of men more fear- 



248 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSI^ TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

less or more faithful, more chivalrous, reliable or trustworthy, 
more loyal to professional obligations, or more honorable in 
inter-professional intercourse and relations. True, there 
were exceptions, as, at all times and every where, there are 
and will be. Bullying insolence, swaggering pretension, un- 
derhanded arts, low attraction, unworthy huckstering for 
fees, circumvention, artful dodges, ignoring engagements, fa- 
cile obliviousness of arrangements, and a smart sprinkling, 
especially in the early times, of pettifogging, quibbling and 
quirking there were; but these vices are rather of persons 
than of caste, and are not often found; and, when they 
make themselves apparent, are scouted with scorn by the 
better members of the bar. 

We should be grossly misunderstood if we were con- 
strued to imply that the bar of the South- West, possessing 
the signal opportunities and advantages to which we have 
adverted, so improved them that all of its members became 
good lawyers and honorable gentlemen. Mendacity itself 
could scarcely be supposed to assert what no credulity could 
believe. All the guano of Lobos could not make Zahara 
a garden. In too many cases there was no sub-soil of mind 
or morals on which these advantages could rest. As Chief 
Justice Collier, in Dargan and Waring, 17 Ala. Reports, in 
language, marrying the manly strength and beauty of Black- 
stone to the classic elegance and flexible grace of Stow^ll, 
expresses it, " the claim of such," so predicated, " would be 
irro tanto absolutely void, and, having nothing to rest on. a 
court of equity" (or law) "could not impart to it vitality. 



THE BAR OF THE SOUTH-WEST. 249 

Form and order has been given to chaos, but an appeal to 
equity" (or law) "to breath life into a nonentity, which is 
both intangible and imperceptible, supposes a higher power 
— one which no human tribunal can rightfully exercise. 
/Equitas sequitur legem." This view is conclusive. 

We should have been pleased to have said something of 
the bench, especially of that of the Supreme Court of Ala- 
bama and Mississippi, but neither our space nor the patience 
of the reader will permit. 

A writer usually catches something from, as well as com- 
municates something to, his subject. Hence if, in the state- 
ments of this paper, we shall encounter the incredulity of 
some old fogy of an older bar, and he should set us down as 
little better than a romancer in prose, we beg him to consider 
that we have had two or three regiments of lawyers for our 
theme — and be charitable. 



250 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



THE HON. FKANCIS STROTHER. 

I NIB my pen and impart to it a fine hair-stroke, in order that 
I may give the more delicate touches which can alone show 
forth the character of this distinguished gentleman. It is 
no ordinary character, and yet it is most difficult to draw. 
There are no sharp angles, no salient points which it Is im- 
possible to miss, and which serve as handles whereby to hold 
up a character to public view. The lines are delicate, the 
grain fine, the features regular, the contour full, rounded and 
perfectly developed, nowhere feeble or stunted, and nowhere 
disproportioned. He is the type of a class, unfortunately of 
a small class; more unfortunately of a class rapidly 
disappearing in the hurly-burly of this fast age of steam 
pressure and railway progress: a gentleman of the Old 
School with the energy of the New. 

If I hold the pencil in hand in idle reverie, it is because 
my mind rests lovingly upon a picture I feel incapable of 
transcribing with fidelity to the original: I feel that the 
coarse copy I shall make will do no justice to the image on 
the mind; and, therefore, I pause a moment, to look once 



HON. FRANCIS STROTHER. 251 

more at the original before it is obscured by the rude coun- 
terpart. 

Fifteen years ago — long years crowded with changes and 
events — such changes as are only effected in our countx-y 
within so short a period, — the savage disappearing — the fron- 
tier-man following on to a further border — that border, like 
the horizon, widening and stretching out towards the sink- 
ing sun, as we go on; — tJien the rude settlement, notv the im- 
proved neighborhood, with its school-houses and churches; the 
log cabin giving way to the mansion, — the wilderness giving 
way to the garden and the farm; fifteen years ago, I first saw 
him. He was then, so far as I can remember, what he is 
now: — no perceptible change has occurred in any outward oi 
inner characteristic, except that now a pair of spectacles oc- 
casionally may be found upon his nose, as that unresting pen 
sweeps in bold and beautiful chirography across his paper; 
a deeper tinge of gray may be seen in his hair, and possibly 
too, his slight, but graceful and well-knit form may be a trifle 
less active than of old. I put these as possibilities — not as 
matters I can note. 

The large, well-developed head — the mild, quiet, strong 
face — the nose, slightly aquiline — the mouth, firm yet flexi- 
ble — the slightly elongated chin — the head oval, and pro- 
truding largely behind the ears in the region that supplies 
the motive powers, would not have conveyed a right mean- 
ing did not the blue eyes, strong yet kind, beaming out the 
mingled expression of intelligence and benignity, which, 
above all other marks, is the unmistakable, uncounterfeit- 



252 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

able outward sign of a true gentleman, relieve and mellow 
the picture. The voice kind, social, gentle — and the whole 
manner deferential, simple, natural and winning — self-poised, 
modest, friendly, and yet delicate and gracefully dignified. 
Dignified is scarcely an apt word in the vulgar meaning at- 
tached to it; for there was no idea of self, much less of pre- 
tension or affectation connected with his manner or bearing. 
But there was, towards high and low, rich and poor, a genu- 
ine and unaffected kindness and friendliness, which every 
man who approached him felt had something in it peculiarly 
sweet towards him; and made the most unfriended outcast 
feel there was, at least, one man in the world who felt an in- 
terest in and sympathy for him and his fortunes. Towards 
the young especially was this exhibited, and by them was it 
appreciated. A child would come to him with the feeling 
of familiarity and a sense of affectionate consideration; and 
a young man, just coming to the bar, felt that he had found 
one who would be glad to aid him in his struggles and en- 
courage him in difficulty. Were this rare manner a thing of 
art and but a manual gone through with — put on for effect — 
it could not have been long maintained or long undiscovered. 
But it was the same all the time — and the effect the same. 
We need scarcely say that the effect was to give the subject 
of it a popularity well nigh universal. It was a popularity 
which during years of active life in all departments of busi- 
ness affairs, public and private — all the strifes of rivalry and 
collisions of interest never shook. The fiercest oppositions 
of party left him uninjured in fame or appreciation: indeed 



HON. FRANCIS STEOTHER. 258 

no party ties were strong enough to resist a popularity so 
deep and wide. 

He had passed through the strong temptations which 
beset a man in a new country, and such a country, unscathed, 
unsoiled even by suspicion, and ever maintain a reputation 
above question or challenge. It were easy to have accumu- 
lated an immense fortune by an agency for the Indians in 
securing their claims under the treaty of 1830; and he was 
offered the agency with a compensation which would have 
made him a millionaire; he took the agency but rejected the 
fortune^ 

He was the genius of labor. His unequalled facility in 
the dispatch of business surprised all who knew its extent. 
Nothing was omitted — nothing flurried over — nothing bore 
marks of haste, nothing was done out of time. System — 
order — punctuality waited upon him as so many servants to 
that patient and indomitable industry. He had a rare tact 
in getting at, and in getting through, a thing. He saw at 
once the point. He never missed the joint of the argument. 
He never went to opening the oyster at the Vv^rong end. He 
never turned over and over a subject to find out what to do 
with it or how to commence work. He caught the run of 
the facts — moulded the scheme of his treatment of them — 
saw their right relations, value and dependence, and then 
started at once, in ready, fluent and terse English, to put them 
on paper or marshal them in speech. His power of state- 
ment was remarkable, especially of written statement. He 
could make more out of a fact than most men out of two: 



254 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

and immaterial matters lie could so dove-tail and attach to 
other matters, that they left an impression of a grea^ deal of 
plausibility and pertinecy. 

He loved labor for its own sake as some men love ease. 
There was no part of office-work drudgery to him. He car- 
ried his writing materials about with him as some men their 
canes: and that busy pen, at a moment's notice, was speed- 
ing over the paper, throwing the g's and y"s behind at a rapid 
rate. 

A member of Congress — he was in the House, defending 
the Pre-emption System, out of it, attending to some busi- 
ness before the departments; in again, writing with a pile of 
letters before him; in the committee room, busy with its 
business: again, before the Secretary of V/ar, arguing some 
question about the Dancing Rabbit Treaty, 14th article: — 
and then consulting the Attorney General, so that persons 
who had no knowledge of his ubiquitous habits, seeing him at 
one of these places, would have been willing to have sworn an 
alihi for him if charged with being that morning at any oiher. 

Returning to the practice, it was the same thing. The 
management and care of his own property — his attention to 
a large family and household affairs — these things would 
have made some inroads upon another's time, but these and 
a large practice, extended over many courts and several of 
the wealthiest counties of the State, at a time when every 
man was a client, did not seem to press upon him. He 
could turn himself from one subject to another with wonder- 
ful ease: the hinges of his mind moved as if oiled, in any di- 



HON. FRANCIS STROTHER. 255 

rection. Trying an important case in the Circuit Court, as 
the jury retired and the Court was calling some other case 
he would propose to the opposite counsel to go down into the 
Orphan's Court, and try a case there, involving a few thou- 
sands; and that dispatched, might be found in the Chancery 
office preparing a suit for trial there; which finished, he 
would hear the result of the law case, and, by the meeting 
of Court, have (if decided adversely) a bill of exceptions 
ready, of a sheet or two of foolscap, or a bill for an injunc- 
tion to take the case into Chancery, At night, he would be 
ready for a reference before the Master of an account of part- 
nership transactions of vast amount; and, as he walked into 
Court next morning, would merely call by to file a score or 
two of exceptions; and, in all the time, would carry on his 
consultations and prepare the cases coming on for trial, and 
be ready to enjoy a little social conversation with his breth- 
ren. In all this, there v/as no bustle, hurry, parade, fuss 
or excitement. He moved like the Ericsson motor, with- 
out noise, the only evidence that it was moving being the 
progress made. 

He was never out of temper, never flurried, never excited. 
There was a serious, patient expression in the eyes, which 
showed a complete mastery of all things that trouble the ner- 
vous system. Even when he complained — as he often did — 
it was not a testy, ill-natured, peevish grumbling, but seem- 
ingly the complaint of a good, gentle nature, whose meek- 
ness was a little too sternly tried. He never abused any 
body. He had no use for sarcasm or invective. Even when 



356 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

prosecuting for crime a heinous criminal, he used the lan- 
guage of civility, if not of kindness. Indeed, he seemed to 
seek a conviction from a sheer feeling of consideration for 
the prisoner. He would cross-examine a swift or perjured 
witness in a tone of kindness which seemed anxious to relieve 
him from embarrassment; and plying with great tact ques- 
tion after question, would, when the witness faltered and 
stammered or broke down, seem to feel a lively sentiment 
of commiseration for his unfortunate predicament. In com- 
menting upon his testimony, he would attribute his unhappy 
course to any thing but wilful misstatement — ^^to strange hal- 
lucinaition, prejudice, an excitable temperament, want of 
memory, or even to dreaming: but still the right impression 
was always left, if in no other way, by the elaborate dis- 
claimers and apologies, that, with such persistent and perti- 
nacious over-kindness, he made for the delinquent. ' 

There was business skill in every thing he did. His ar- 
guments were clear, brief, pointed — never wandering, dis^ 
cursive or episodical — never over-worked, or over-laden, or 
over-elaborated. He took all the points — took them clearly, 
expressed them neatly and fully — knew when to press a 
point and when to glide over it quickly, and above all — what 
so few know — he knew when he was done. His tone was 
that of animated conversation, his manner courteous, re- 
spectful, impressive and persuasive: never offending good 
taste, never hurried away by imprudence or compromising 
his case by a point that could be made to reach it; and pro- 
bably making as few imprudent admissions as any member 
of the bar. 



HON. FRANCIS STROTHER. 257 

But in many of these points he was equalled; in one he 
was not — his tact in drawing papers. In a paper showing- 
for a continuance or for a change of venue, the skill with 
which the facts were marshalled and conclusions insinuated 
was remarkable. Like shot-silk the light glanced over and 
along the whole statement, though it was often hard to find 
precisely where it was or what made it; yoit, if admitted, ? 
little emphasis or a slight connection with extraneous mat- 
ter would put his adversary's case in a dangerous position. 

A more pliant, facile, complying gentleman than the 
Hon. Francis, it was impossible to find on a summer's day, — 
so truthful, so credulous, so amiably uncontroverting. It 
seemed almost a pity to take advantage of such simplicity, 
to impose upon such deferential confidence! Such innocence 
deserved to be respected, and like the Virgin in the fable, 
sleeping by the lion, one would think that it ought to carry 
in its trusting purity a charm against wrong from the most 
savage brutality or the most unscrupulous mendacity. This 
view of the subject, I am forced to say, does not quite rep- 
resent the fact. The Hon. Francis was very limber — but 
it was the limberness of whalebone, gum-elastic, steel springs 
and gutta percha — limber because tough — easily bowed, but 
impossible to be broken or kepit down. He had great sua- 
vity — but it was only the siiaviter in modo. Substantially 
and essentially he was fortiter in re — mechanically he was 
suaviter in modo: the siiaviter was only the running gear 
by which he worked the fortiter. In his own private affairs 
no man was more liberal and yielding, or less exacting or 



258 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

pertinacious; professionally, his concessions took the form 
of, and exhausted their energies in beneficent words, benig- 
nant seemings and gracious gestures. But his manner was 
inimitably munificent. Though he gave nothing, he went 
through the motions of giving most grandly; empty-handed 
you felt that you were full; you mistook the filling of your 
ears for some substantial benefit to your client; there was 
an affluence of words, a lingual and manual generosity which 
almost seemed to transpose the figures on the statement 
which he proposed as a settlement. With a grand self-abne- 
gation, he would allow you to continue a cause when his side 
was not ready to try it, and would most blandly merely in- 
sist on your paying the costs, magnanimously waiving fur- 
ther advantage of your situation. He would suffer you to 
take a non-suit with an air of kindness calculated to rivet a 
sense of eternal obligation. No man revelled in a more 
princely generosity than he when he gave av>^ay nothing. 
And to carry out the self-delusion, he took with the air of 
giving a bounty. Before his manner of marvellous conces- 
sion all impediments and precedence vanished. If he had 
a case at the end of the docket, he ahvvays managed to get it 
tried first: if the arrangement of the docket did not suit his 
convenience, his convenience changed it by a sort of not-be- 
fore understood, but taken-for-granted general consent of 
the bar. There was such a matter-of-course about his polite 
propositions, that for a good while, no one ever thought of 
resisting them; indeed, most lawyers, under the spell of his 
infatuating manners, half-recollected some sort of agreement 



HON. FRANCIS STROTHER. 259 

which was never made. In the trial of a cause he would 
slip in testimony on you in such a cozy, easy, insinuating 
fashion, that you were ruined before you could rally to op- 
pose it. Even witnesses could not resis,t the graciousness 
and affectionateness of his manner, the confidence with which 
he rested on their presumed knowledge: — they thought they 
must know what he evidently knew so well and so authenti- 
cally. 

He lifted great weights as the media do heavy tables 
without any show of strength. 

The Hon. Francis had no doubts. He had passed from 
this world of shadows to a world of perfect light and know- 
ledge. He had the rare luck of always being on the right 
side: and then he had all the points that could be made on 
that side clearly in his favor, and all that could be made 
against him were clearly wrong. He was never taken off 
his guard. If a witness swore him out of court, he could 
not swear him out of countenance. He expected it. His 
case was better than he feared. In the serene confidence of 
unshakable faith in his cause, brickbats fell on . his mind 
like snowflakes, melting as they fell, and leaving no impres- 
sion. If he had but one witness, and you had six against 
him, long after the jury had ceased listening and when you 
concluded, he would mildly ask you if that was all your 
proof, and if you proposed going to the jury on that? 

But if the Hon. Francis had no doubts, he had an enor- 
mous development of the organ of wonder. He had a note 
of admiration in his eyes as large as a ninepin. He wondered 



260 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

that a party should have brought such a suit; that another 
had set up such a defence; that the counsel should have 
taken such a point; that the court should have made such a 
ruling (with great deference), and he wondered that the Su- 
preme Court had sustained it. Nil admirari was not his 
maxim. 

I was a little too fast when I said he was never taken 
by surprise. He was once — indeed twice. Casually looking 
at some papers Blass held in his hand, as an important case 
was being called for trial, he saw what he took to be a release 
of the action by one of the nominal plaintiffs: in order to 
avoid the effect of this paper, he applied for a continuance, 
which it was never difficult for him to obtain. Finding out 
afterwards his mistake, he moved to set aside the order of 
continuance. It required a lion-like boldness to make and 
assign the grounds of the motion: this effort he essayed with 
his usual ingenuity. He commenced by speaking of Blass's 
high character — that he had been deceived by the real and 
implied assurance of B. — that he acquitted B. of all intention- 
al impropriety: he entered into a most elaborate disclaimer 
of all injurious imputation: he spoke only of the effect: he 
had only seen hastily a paper endorsed as a release: he should 
be surprised if the gentleman would hold him to the order 
taken under such circumstances of mistake — a mistake which 
had misled him, and which he took the earliest opportunity 
of correcting. " In other words," said B., " you peeped into 
my hand and mistook the card, and now you want to renig 
because your eyes fooled you." "Ahem!" said S., "I have 



HON. FRANCIS STROTHER. 261 

already stated the facts." " Well," said B., pulling out the 
paper, '" I will let you set aside the order if you promise to 
go to trial.'' "No," S. answered, "I believe not: on fur- 
ther reflection, perhaps it might be irregular." 

On another occasion he had been cross-examining an Irish- 
man, and the Hibernian desiring to come prepared to make 
a display in affidavit elocution, had written out his testimony 
at length: but having got drunk he had dropped the MS. 
which being found by the client of Mr. S., was put into his 
hands. Mr. S. opened the paper and inquired of the witness, 
"Mr. McShee, did you ever see this paper before: have the 
kindness to look at it?" The witness snatched up the paper 
and answered quickly, " Sure, yes— it's mine, Misther Stro- 
ther, I lost it meself, and v/here is the $5 bill I put in it?" 
Being pressed for time, one morning, Mr. S. entered a 
barber's shop in Mobile, where he saw a brother lawyer of 
the Sumter bar. Jemmy 0., highly lathered, sitting in much 
state in the chair waiting for the loavherian to sharpen his 
blade. Mr. S. addressed his old acquaintance with great 
warmth and cordiality — requested him to keep his seat — 
begged him not to be at all uneasy on his account — protest- 
ed that he was not in his way — he could wait — not to think of 
putting him to trouble — pulled off his cravat — it was no in- 
trusion—not at all— by no means — politely disclaimed, af- 
firmed and protested— until J. O., thinking that Mr. S. 
somehow had precedence, got up and insisted on Mr. S. 
taking the chair, to which Mr. S., like Donna Julia, " vow- 
ing he would ne'er consent, consented " — was duly shaved — 



362 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

all the while protesting against it — and went out, leaving J. 
O. to think he was the politest man he had ever met with. 

When J. O. afterwards found out that S. had no prece- 
dence, he said he had been taught a new chapter of law — 
the title by disclaimer. 

At length the Hon. Mr. Strother got his hands full. 
He got at last to the long wished for enjoyment which was 
to reward the trials of his earlier years. He was made com- 
missioner of the State Banks of Alabama. He had it all 
to himself. No partner shared with him this luxurious re- 
past. Such a mass and mess of confusion — such a bundle 
of heterogenous botches; in which blundering stupidity, 
reckless inattention, and both intelligent and ignorant ras- 
cality had made their tracks and figures, never before was 
seen. He was to bring order out of chaos — reconcile dis- 
crepancies — ^supply whole pages of ledgers — balance unbal- 
anceable accounts — understand the unintelligible — collect 
debts involved in all mazes of legal defences, or slumbering 
cozily in chancery — to bring all sorts of agenis to all sorts 
of settlements — to compromise bad debts — disencumber 
clogged property — ^to keep up a correspondence like that 
of the Pension Bureau — and manage the finances of the 
State government. The State trembled on the verge of Re- 
pudiation; if the assets of the banks were lost, the honor 
of the State was gone. The road through the Bank opera- 
tions was like the road through Hounslov/ heath, every step 
a robbery. To bring the authors to their responsibility — to 
hunt up and hunt down absconding debtors and speculators 



HON. FRANCIS STKOTIIEU. 263 

— to be every where at once — to be in Boston, Mobile, Now 
Orleans, New-York — and then to keep up his practice in 
several counties just for holiday refreshment, were some of 
(he labors he performed. 

He succeeeded wonderfully. He kept untarnished the 
honor of the State. He restored its solvency, and, clothed 
with such vast trusts, greater than were ever before confided, 
perhaps, in the South-West to a single man, he discharged 
them with a fidelity which can neither be exaggerated nor de- 
nied. He, like Falstaff, "turned diseases to commodity:" the 
worthless assets of the Banks were turned into State Bonds; 
and the State, relieved of the pressure upon her resources, 
rose up at once to her place of honor in the sisterhood of 
States, and shone, with a nev/ and fresher lustre, not the 
least in that bright galaxy. Relieved of her embarrass- 
ments, in no small degree through the instrumentality of the 
distinguished citizen, whose name shines through the nom de 
guerre at the head of this article, improvements are going 
on, mingling enterprise with patriotism, and giving forth the 
most auspicious prospects for the future. It is, therefore, 
not out of place to give some passing notice of one more in- 
strumental than any other in redeeming the State from the 
Flush Times, in the course of our hasty articles illustrative 
of that hell carnival. 



264 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



MR. TEE AND MR. GEE. 

One of the most distinquished lawyers in the State of Mis^ 
sissippi, was W. Y. Gee, Esq. He was distinguished not 
less for his legal learning than for the acuteness and sub- 
tlety of his intellect. He was fond of exercising his talents 
in legal speculations, and was pleased when some new and 
difficult point was presented for solution. John S. Tee, 
Esq., was not of that sort. He was a man of facts and fig- 
ures, and practical and stern realities. He cared nothing 
about a lawsuit except for the proofs and what appeared on 
the back of the execution, and thought the best Report ever 
made of a case was that made by the sheriff. He was com- 
pletely satisfied if the Fi-fa was. He was doing a large 
collecting business; he prided himself more on the skill with 
which he worked on a promissory note than he would have 
done if he had pinned Pinkney, like a beetle, to the wall, 
in McGollougli vs. The State of Maryland, or made Web- 
ster " take water " in the great Dartmouth College case. 
What seemed to him " the perfection of human reason," was 
not the common law, but that part of the Statute law which 



MR. TEE AND MR. GEE. 265 

gave the remedy by attachment, and which statute was, as 
he was fond of saying, " to be liberally construed in favor 
of justice and for the prevention of fraud:" and he thought 
the perfection of professional practice under the " perfection 
of reason," was, to get a skulking debtor fixed so as to give 
an opportunity for starting the remedy after him, and thus 
securing a bad or doubtful debt out of property which 
might otherwise be " secreted," or squandered in paying 
other debts, for which the debtor might have a sickly fancy. 

Squire Tee was a great favorite of Northern creditors, 
and deservedly. He clung to them through thick and thin, 
through good report and through bad report, in hard times 
and in easy times, and through all times. He " kept his 
loyalty, his love, his zeal " in a perpetual fervor. His confi- 
dence in them was unbounded. Nothing could either in- 
crease or diminish it. He would have sacrificed his own 
interest to theirs — he did, no doubt, frequently: and the 
more he gave "of service to their cause — by the usual law of 
charity — the more he was capable of giving — the widow's 
cruse of oil grew by the giving to two widow's cruses 
of oil. 

Among other things, he practised an intimate acquaint- 
ance with the facts of his case. No man was more sedu- 
lous in the preparation of proofs. He knew that however 
well a case was put up on the papers, it was of but little 
avail if it was not also well put up in the evidence. He 
liked evidence — a plenty of it, and good what there was of 
it: better too much than not enough; — he liked to converse 



266 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

with the witnesses himself — to know exactly what they 
would prove: it pleased him to hear them rehearse, and 
then it prepared him for the coming on of the piece when 
he could act as prompter. He was an amateur in evidence; 
he loved it as an antiquarian an old fossil — as a machinist a 
new invention — as a politician a new humbug; it was a 
thing to be admired for itself — it had both an intrinsic and 
an extrinsic value. Receiving many claims when the times 
were at the hardest, he found himself frequently opposed by 
the ablest counsel of the State; and the incident we are to 
relate of him occurred on one of those occasions. 

It should have been stated that, as in collecting cases, 
many of the clients lived at a great distance from the 
debtor, the attorney acted, in such instances, as the general 
agent of the creditor, to a great extent: and, in preparing a 
case for trial, had to do the w^ork of both client and counsel. 
Mr. Tee was often brought into correspondence with the 
debtors afterwards to be made defendants. Opportunities 
afforded by such relations, it will readily be perceived, could 
very easily be improved into occasions for eliciting such 
facts as would, in no few instances, be very useful evidence 
on the trial. In this way, Mr. Tee's research and industry 
had been rev/arded by a vast amount of useful information 
of which his duty to his clients made him not at all penu- 
rious, when it became their interest to have it turned into 
testimony. He had a good memory, a good manner, an ex- 
cellent voice and a fine person; and he knew of no more 
pleasing way of putting to account a good memory, a good 



MR. TEE AND MR. GEE. 26 T 

manner, an excellent voice and a fine person, than in deliver- 
ing testimony in open court for a Northern client. He had 
one advantage over most witnesses; he knew something 
about the facts before he heard the parties' statements: he 
paid the most particular attention with the view of having 
matters definitely fixed in his mind, and then, being a lawyer 
and a good judge of the article proof, he was able to refer 
his statements to the proper points, and to know the relevancy 
and bearing of the facts on the case. He was fluent, easy, 
unembarrassed, though somewhat earnest of manner and 
speech, and had a lively talent for affidavit elocution, and a 
considerable power of compendious, terse and vigorous nar- 
rative in that department of forensic eloquence. It affords 
us pleasure to be able to pay this deserved meed of justice 
to an old friend and associate. Some men are niggardly of 
praise. Not so this author. 

This marked fidelity to the interests of his clients had 
made Mr. Tee somewhat familiar with the witness box, and 
the result had almost universally been a • speedy disposal of 
the matter involved in the controversy in favor of his cli- 
ent. 

The bar, not always the most confiding of men, nor the 
least querulous, had begun to find fault with this euthanasia, 
as Mr. C. J. Ingersoll, in his Bunyan-like style, expresses 
it: they wanted a lawsuit to die the old way, and not by 
chloroform process, — the old bull-baiting fashion — fainting 
off from sheer exhaustion, or overpowered by sheer strength 
and lusty cuffs, kicking and fighting to the last. And so they 



268 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

complained and averred it was to their great damage, where- 
fore they sued Tee to discontinue proceedings of this sort, 
but he refused, and possibly, still refuses. 

A suit had been brought by Tee for a leading house in 
New-York, in the U. S. Court, on a bill of exchange drawn 
or Indorsed by a merchant, and W. Y. Gee, Esq., employed to 
defend it. The amount was considerable, but the case pro- 
mised to be more interesting as involving a new and difficult 
point in the Law Merchant upon the question of notice. 

The case had been opened for the plaintiff — the bill, pro- 
test, depositions, foreign statutes, and so forth, read, and one 
or two witnesses examined. The Court had taken a recess 
for dinner — it being understood or taken for granted that the 
plaintiff had closed his case. The defendant either had no 
v/itnesses or else preferred submitting the case without them, 
the point on which Mr. Gee relied having been brought out 
by an unnecessary question propounded by Tee to his own 
witness. 

After the meeting of the Court, Mr. Gee, who was a lit- 
tle near-sighted, was seen before the bar, leisurely arranging 
a small library of books he had collected, and by the aid of 
which he was to argue the point on the notice. Having ac- 
complished this to his satisfaction, he leaned his head on his 
hand and was absorbed in profound cogitation — like an Epis- 
copal clergyman before the sermon. The court interrupted 
him in this meditation by announcing its readiness to proceed 
with the cause. Gee rose and remarked to the Court that 



MR. TEE AND MR. GEE. 269 

the defence was one of pure law, and he should raise the only 
question he meant to make by a demurrer to the plaintiff's 
evidence. " Not until the plaintiff gets through his proof, I 
reckon," said Mr. Tee. " Why, I thought you had rested," 
replied Mr. Gee. " Yes," said Tee, " I did rest a little, and 
am now tired resting, and will proceed to labor — Clerk, swear 

ME." 

Gee jumped from his seat and rushed towards Tee — 
" Now Tee," said he — " just this one time, if you please, for- 
bear, for Heaven's sake — come now, be reasonable — it is the 
prettiest point as it stands I ever saw — the principle is real- 
ly important — don't spoil it. Tee." But Tee, fending Gee off 
with one hand, held out the other for the book. Gee grew 
more earnest — '' Tee, Tee, old fellow — I say now, look here. 
Tee, don't do this, this time — just hold off for a minute — 
come, listen to reason — now come, come, let this case be an 
exception — you said you were through — if you will just stand 
off I won't demur you out any more." 

But Tee was not to be held off — he repeated, " Clerk, 
swear me, I must discharge my professional duties." 

Gee retired in disgust, not waiting to hear the result — 
barely remarking, that if it came to that, Tee would cover 
thT case like a confession of judgment and the statute of Jee- 
fails besides. We believe he was not mistaken; for his 
affidavy carried the case sailing beyond gun-shot of Gee's 
batteries. 

Gee contented himself with giving notice to Tee that he 



370 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

should require him for the future to give him notice when he 
meant to testify in his cases, as he wished to be saved the 
trouble of bringing books and papers into Court. To which 
Tee replied he might consider a general notice served upon 
him then. 



SCAN. MAG. 271 



SCAN. MAG. 

Patrick McFadgin found himself indicted in the Cir- 
cuit Court of Pickens County, for indulging in sundry Hi- 
bernian pastimes, whereby his superflux of animal and ardent 
spirits exercised themselves and his shillaly, to the annoy- 
ance of the good and peaceable citizens and burghers of the 
village of Pickensville, at to wit, in said county. 

One Squire Furkisson v/as a witness against the afore- 
said Patrick, and, upon his evidence chiefly, the said McFad- 
gin was convicted on three several indictments for testing 
the strength of his shillaly on the craniums of as many citi- 
zens; albeit, Patrick vehemently protested that he was only 
in fun, " and after running a rig on the boys for amusement, 
on a sportive occasion of being married to a female v.-oman 
— his prisint wife." 

A more serious case was now coming up against Pat, hav- 
ing its origin in his drawing and attempting to fire a pistol, 
loaded with powder and three leaden bullets, which pistol 
the said Patrick in his right hand then and there held, with 
intent one Bodley then and there to kill and murder contra- 



272 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

ry to the form of the statute (it being highly penal to mur- 
der a man in Alabama contrary to the form of the statute). 
To this indictment Patrick pleaded "Not guilty," and, 
the jury being in the box, the State's Solicitor proceeded to 
call Mr. Purkisson as a witness. With the utmost innocence, 
Patrick turned his face to the Court and said, " Do I under- 
stand yer Honor that Misther Furkisson is to be a witness 
foment me agin? " The judge said dryly, it seemed so. 
" Well, thin, yer Honor, I plade guilty sure, an' ef yer 
Honor plase, not because I am guilty, for I'm as innocent as 
yer Honor's sucking babe at the brist — but jist on the ac- 
count of saving Mither Furkisson's sowl." 



AN EQUITABLE SET-OFF. 273 



AN EQUITABLE SET-OFF. 

An enterprising young gentleman of the extensive family 
of Smith, rejoicing in the Christian prefix of Theophilus, and 
engaged in that species of traffic for which Kentucky is fa- 
mous, to wit, in the horse-trading line, tried his wits upon a 
man in the same community of the name of Hickerson, and 
found himself very considerably minus in the operation; the 
horse he had swapped for turning out to be worth, by reason 
of sundry latent defects, considerably less than nothing. 

Smith waited, for some time, for an opportunity of right- 
ing himself in the premises; preferring to be discreetly silent 
on the subject of his loss, such accidents being looked upon, 
about that time, by those with whom he most associated, 
more as a matter of ridicule than sympathy. At length 
Mr, Hickerson, in the course of one of his trading forays in 
the neighboring village, had got a fine mule, and brought him 
home, well pleased v/ith his bargain. A favorable opportu- 
nity now presented itself for Mr. Smith to obtain his revenge. 
He adopted the following plan: He sent a complaisant friend, 
a Mr. Timothy Diggs, over Hickerson's one Sunday morn- 



274 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OP ALABAMA. 

ing, with instructions. Mr. Diggs, riding leisurely beyond Mr. 
Hickerson's premises, caught sight of the mule, and, turning 
towards the house, saw Mr. Hickerson, who was sitting in the 
porch calmly enjoying those exhilarating reflections which 
come across the mind of a jockey after a good trade. " Hallo, 
Hickerson," said he, " I see you have got Jones's big mule — 
Jones came near selling him to me, but I got item in time, and 
escaped." " Why," said Hickerson, " was any thing the mat- 
ter with the mule?" "'Yes," said Diggs; "however, I don't 
know myself that there was much, only this; that the mule does 
very well except in the full of the moon, and then he takes fits 
which last about a week, hardly ever longer; and then such 
rearing and charging, and biting and kicking! he's like all 
possessed — nobody and nothing can manage him. Now, the 
best you can do is to go down to Smith's, and trade him off 
with him for a bran-new sorrel horse he's got. "Well," said 
Hickerson, " I'll do that sure. Hold on, and keep dark, old 
fellow, and see how 1 11 crack him." 

Hickerson accordingly fixed up his mule, and rode over 
to Mr. Smith's, and after much chaffering, and many mutual 
compliments, in the French style, to their respective animals, 
the new sorrel, that had been fixed up for Mr. Hickerson's 
special benefit, and had all the diseases that horseflesh is 
heir to, and some it gets by adoption, was exchanged for the 
mule. 

It was not long before Mr. Hickerson, finding Mr. Smith 
in company with some of the young gentlemen who could re- 
lish humor of this sort, ventured to relate this amusing in- 



A COOL REJOINDER. 275 

cident; but when Mr. Smith, who had quietly awaited 
the termination of the narrative and the laughter growing 
thereout, in his turn gave in the counter-plot, Mr. Hicker- 
son's sensibilities became greatly excited; and seeking to 
right himself by the law, on the facts coming out, found that 
Mr. Smith had only obtained an equitable set-off, and that he 
could not plead his own turpitude to regain what he had lost 
in trying to co7ne the old soldier over another man. 



A COOL REJOINDER. 

A Me. Killy, who was in the habit of imUding pretty 
freely, at a court held in one of the counties of North Ala- 
bama, upon a case being called, in which K. found he could 
not get along for want of proof, was asked by the court what 
course he would take in the matter. '' Why," said K., *' if it 
please your honor, I believe I will take water " (a common 
expression, signifying that the person using it would take a 
nonsuit). Judge A. was on the bench, and was something of 
a wag in a dry way, and had his pen in his hand ready to 
make the entry. 

" Well," said the Judge, " brother K., if you do, you will 
astonish your stomach most mightily." 



276 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



A HUNG COURT. 

Most of our readers have heard of a hung jury, but have 
they ever heard of a hung court? If not, I beg leave to 
introduce them to an instance of it, and shovv^ how it came 
about, and how it got unhung. 

A justice of the peace in Alabama has jurisdiction in 
cases of deht, to the extent of fifty dollars; and there 
are two justices for every captain's beat. It was usual, 
when a case of much interest came on, for one justice to 
call in the other as associate. On one occasion, the little 

town of Splitskull, in County, was thrown into a 

flutter of excitement, by a suit brought. by one Smith against 
one Johnston, for forty dollars, due on a trade for a jack- 
ass, but payment of which was resisted, on the plea that the 
jackass turned out to be valueless. The parties — the ass 
excluded — were brothers-in-law, and the " connection " very 
numerous; the ass, too, was Vv^ell known, and shared the 
usual fate of notoriety — a great deal of good, and a some- 
what greater amount of bad, repute. The issue turned 
upon the worth of the jack, and his standing in the com- 



A HUNG COURT. 277 

munity. Partisan feeling was a good deal aroused — the 
community grew very much excited — several fights arose 
from the matter, and it was said that a constable's election 
had been decided upon the issue of jackass vel non; and — but 
we doubt this — it was even reported that a young lady in 
the neighborhood had discarded a young gentleman for the 
part he took in favor of the quadruped, differing widely, as 
she did — and no doubt honestly — on the merits of the question, 
from her swain. Unfortunately, politics at that time were 
raging wildly; and the name of the jack being Dick John- 
son, and one of the parties being a whig and the other a demo- 
crat, that disturbing element was thrown in. But it is only 
fair to say, that the excitement on the actual merits of the 
subject, to a considerable extent, blotted our party lines; so 
that I cannot say that the ass was seriously injured by poli- 
tics — few are. This controversy got into the church; but 
the church had soon to drop it — two of the preachers hav- 
ing got to fisticuffs, and made disclosures on each other, 
&c., &c., the danger being that it would break up the con- 
gregation. 

It got, at length, into the lawyers' hands; and then, of 
course, all hopes of a settlement of the controversy, except 
in one way, were at an end. 

After the parties employed their lawyers, the note of 
busy preparation rang more loudly throughout the settle- 
ment. Forty witnesses a side were subpoenaed. The peo- 
ple turned out as to a muster. The pro-ass party, and the 
anti-ass party made themselves busy in getting things ready 



278 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

for Irial. The justices preserved an air of mysterious and 
dignified impartiality, and all attempts to sound them on 
the question proved abortive. Little Billy Perkins, who 
taught a singing school in the neighborhood, and who had 
many arts and many opportunities for ingratiating himself 
with the wife and daughters of Squire Crousehorn, did get, 
he used afterwards to boast, some little item, in a private 
way, as to the leaning of that jurist; and, on the strengtii 
of it, laid a wager of a set of singing books and a tuning- 
fork, against twenty bushels of corn, vs. the ass: but the 
wary Squire Rushong, who was a bachelor, kept his own 
counsel, and even kept away from all the quiltings and shuck- 
ings. for fear his secret might be wormed out of him by 
some seducing Delilah; or else, that he might, by refusing to 
compi'omise his judicial character, compromise his matri- 
monial prospects. But it ivas said that the Squire was 
sweet on Miss Susan Smith; and it was easy enough to see, 
that to take part against the ass, in the present aspect of 
affairs, was the same as to give up all hopes of Miss Susan, 
or, what was tantamount with the prudent Squire — any in- 
choate rights or prospective interests in her father's estate. 
And it was whispered about by some of the anti-ass party, 
that, considering how cold Miss Susan had been to the Squire 
before, there was something suspiciously sweet in the way 
she smiled on him as he helped her into the ox-wagon from 
the church door, when she was about leaving for home. 
But T dare say this was mere imagination. The plaintiff, 
Smith, was fortunate enough to employ Tom B. Devill, an 



A HUNG COURT. 279 

old lawyer who had great experience in the courts of the 
county, especially in such fancy cases as the present; and 
was justly distinguished throughout all that neck of woods, 
for having the most " libellious " tongue in all that region; 
while the rival faction were thrown upon young Ned Boiler, 
a promising disciple in the same department of the profes- 
sion; and who was considered as a "powerful judge of law," 
especially of " statue law," but who had not the same experi- 
ence in the conduct of such important and delicate litiga- 
tion. Great was the exultation of the pro-assites, when it 
was announced that their messenger — though the others had 
got to the court-house first — had seen the Squire Tom B. be- 
fore their adversary; the pro-assite messenger, by sharp 
foresight, having made his way straight to the grocery where 
Tom. was, and the other, by a strange mistake as to his 
whereabouts, going to his office to find him. The pro-ass- 
ites swore there was no use in carrying the thing further — 
it was as good as decided already — for " Tom B. Devill could 
shykeen and bullyrag Ned Boiler's shirt off, and give him two 
in the game." Anti-ass stock fell in the market, and there 
was even some feeler put out for a " comp."' — but the proposi- 
tion v/as indignantly rejected. 

The canvassing of the witnesses, and preparations for 
trial, played the very mischief with the harmony of the 
settlement. The people had come in from one of the older 
Southern States, for the most part, and were known to each 
other, and had been for many years, and before they had come 
out: — unfortunately, being known has its disadvantages as 



^80 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

well as advantages. Such revelations! Some had run off 
for debt, some for stealing — some had done one thing, some 
another; and even the women were not spared — and, of the 
rising generation — but I spare these details. 

The plaintiff, knowing the advantage of having a per- 
secuted individual in view of the evidence, had brought 
Dick Johnson under a suhpoena duces tecum, on the ground; 
and the groom, Hal Piles, made him go through the motions 
verj'- grandly — rearing up — braying his loudest, and kicking 
up other rustics, indicating a great flow of animal spirits, 
and great vivacity of manners. Accompanying all which 
performances, Hal's ready witticisms — which he had picked 
up at his various stands — though not remarkable for refine- 
ment, seemed to excite no little merriment in the crowd 
around, well qualified to appreciate and enjoy such rhetor- 
ical flourishes and intellectual entertainment. 

The trial came on. It lasted several days. The place 
of the trial was the back-room of the grocery, the crowd 
standing outside or in the front-room; but this not affording 
space enough, it was adjourned to the grove in front of the 
meetinghouse; and ropes drawn around an area in front for 
the lawyers. Court, and witnesses. The case was carried 
through, at last, even to the arguments of the learned bar- 
risters; but these we cannot give, as Vv^e v>^ere not present 
at the trial, and might do injustice to the eminent counsel, 
by reporting their speeches second-hand. It is enough to 
say, that old Devill did his best, and fully sustained his 
reputation; while Boiler not only met the expectations of 



A HUNG COURT. 281 

his friends, but acquitted himself in the blackguarding line 
so admirably, that even old Tom B. Devill asked the pro- 
tection of the Court: an appeal he had never made before. 

At length the case was put to the justices, and they 
withdrew to consider of their judgment. They remained 
out, in consultation, for a good while. The anxiety of the 
crowd and the parties was intense, and kept growing, the 
longer they staid out. A dozen bets were taken on the 
result; and fourteen fights were made up, to take place as 
soon as the case was decided. At least twenty men had 
deferred getting drunk, until they could hear the issue of this 
great suit. 

The justices started to return to their places — and " here 
they come," being cried out, the crowd (or rather crowds 
scattered about the hamlet) came rushing up from all quar- 
ters to hear the news. 

Silence being ordered by the constable, you might have 
seen a hundred open mouths (as if hearing were taken in at 
that hole) gaping over the rope against which the crowd 
pressed. Justice Crousehorn hemmed three times, and then, 
with a tremulous voice, announced that the " Court ar hung," 
— one and one. Now here was a fix. What was to be 
done? In vain the "Digest" was looked into; in vain 
" Smith's Justice " was searched. Nothing could be found 
to throw light on the matter. The case had to be tried: if 
decided either way, " there was abundance of authority," as 
Rushong well suggested, to show that the defeated party 
could appeal: but here there was no judgment. Ned Boiler 



282 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

insisted that the defendant had really gained the case, 
as the plaintiff must show himself entitled to judgment he- 
fore he could get it; and likened it to a case of failure of 
proof: hut, on this point, the Court divided again. Tom 
B. Devill argued that the plaintiff was entitled to judg- 
ment, as he had the justice issuing the warrant in his favor, 
and the associate was only called in as vice-justice, or, at 
most, as supplementary, and supernumerary, and advisory: 
and likened it to the case of a President of the United States 
differing from his cabinet. But here the Court divided again. 

The crowd outside now raised a terrible row, disputting 
as to who had won the bets — the betters betting on particular 
side's winning, contending that they had not lost, as such a 
thing as a hung court " wasn't took into the calcu." — but 
their adversaries claimed that the bet was to be literally 
construed. 

At length a brilliant idea struck Mr. Justice Crouse- 
horn — ^which was, that his brother Rushong should sit and 
give judgment alone, and then, afterwards, that he, Crouse- 
horn, should sit and grant a new trial. Accordingly, this 
was agreed to. Justice Rushong took the bench, and Squire 
Crousehorn retired. The former then gave judgment for 
the plaintiff; which the crowd, not knowing the arrange- 
ment, hearing, the pro-assites raised a deafening shout of 
triumph in which Dick Johnson joined with one of his 
loudest and longest brays. But brother Crousehorn, tak- 
ing the seat of justice, speedily checked these manifesta- 
tions of applause, by announcing he had granted a new 



A HUNG COURT. 283 

trial, which caused the anti-assites to set up a counter- 
shout, in which Richard also joined. So the cause was got- 
ten back again to where it was before, and then was continued 
for further proceedings. 

But what was to be done with the case now? If tried 
again, the same result would happen, and there was no elec- 
tion of new justices for eighteen months; the costs, in the 
mean time, amounting to an enormous sum. The lawyers 
now got together, and settled it. Each party was to pay 
his own costs — Tom B. Devill took the jackass for his fee, 
and was to pay Ned Boiler ten dollars of his fee, and the 
forty dollar note was to be paid to the plaintiff: an arrange- 
ment whereby the parties only lost about fifty dollars a-piece, 
besides the amount in controversy. But the heart-burnings 
and excitement the great trial left, were incapable of com- 
promise, and so they remain to this day. 

But this trial was the making of Ned Boiler. His prac- 
tice immediately rose from $75 to $350 a year. And to 
this day, so strong was the effect of his speech, that when 
the Splitskullers want an hyperbole to express a compliment 
to a speech, they say it was " nearly equal to Ned Boiler's 
great speech against the jackass." 



284 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 

I CANNOT omit Sam from my gallery of daubs. I should feel 
a sense of incompleteness, grieving the conscience with a feel- 
ing of duty undischarged and opportunities neglected, such 
as Cave Burton would have felt had he risen from table with 
an oyster-pie untouched before him. 

Of all the members of the bar, Sam cultivated most the 
faculty of directness. He could tolerate nothing less than 
its absence in others. He knew nothing of circumlocution. 
He had as soon been a tanner's horse, and walked all his life 
pulled by a pole and a string, around a box, in a twenty-foot 
ring, as to be mincing words, hinting and hesitating, and pick- 
ing out soft expressions. He liked the most vigorous words, 
the working words of the language. He thought with re- 
markable clearness; knew exactly what he was going to say; 
meant exactly what he said; and said exactly what he meant. 
A sea-captain with his cargo insured, would as soon have 
made a " deviation " and forfeited the insurance, as Sam, es- 
pecially when in pursuit of a new idea, would have wandered 
for a minute from his straight course. His sense was strong 



SAMUEL IIELE, ESQ. 285 

discriminating, and relevant. Swift was not more English in 
his sturdy, peremptory handling of a subject, than Sam; nor 
more given to varnish and mollifying. He tore the feathers 
off a subject, as a wholesale cook at a restaurant does the plu- 
mage off a fowl, when the crowd are clamorously bawling for 
meat. Sam was v/ell educated and well informed. But his 
memory had never taken on more matter than his mind assimi- 
lated. He had no use for any information that he could not 
work into his thought. He had a great contempt for all pre- 
judices except his own, and was entirely uncramped by other 
people's opinions, or notions, or whims, or fancies, or desires. 
The faculty of veneration was not only wanting, but there 
was a hole where there ought to have been a bump. Prestige 
was a thing he didn't understand. Family he had no idea 
of, except as a means of procreation, and he would have res- 
pected a man as much or as little, if, improving on the modern 
spirit of progress, he had been hatched out in a retort by a 
chemical process, as if he had descended from the Plantagenets, 
with all the quarterings right, and no bar sinister. He had 
no respect for old things, and not much for old persons. 
Established institutions he looked into as familiarly as into a 
horse's mouth, and with about as much respect for their age. 
He would, if he could, have wiped out the Chancery system, or 
the v/hole body of the common law, " the perfection of human 
reason," as he would an ink blot dropped on the paper as he 
was draughting a bill to abolish them. He had no tender- 
ness for the creeds or superstitions of others. A man, ten- 
der-toed on the matter of favorite hobbies, had better not be 



286 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

in Sam's neighborhood. If he cherished any mysteries and 
tendernesses of belief that the strong sunlight of common sense 
caused to blink in the eyes, Sam was no pleasant companion 
to commune with; for Sam would drag them from the twi- 
light as he would an owl, into noonday, and laugh at the 
figure they cut in the sunshine. A delicately-toned spiritu- 
alist felt, when Sam was handling his brittle wares, as a fine 
lady would feel, on seeing a blacksmith with smutty fingers 
taking out of her box, her complexion, laces and finery. 

Doctor Samuel Johnson objected to some one " that there 
was no salt in his talk; " he couldn't have said that of Sam's 
discourse. It not only contained salt, but salt-petre: for 
probably, as many vigorous, brimstone expressions proceed- 
ed from Sam's mouth, as from any body else's, the peculiar 
patron of brimstone fireworks only excepted. 

The faculty of the wonderful did not hold a large place 
on Sam's cranium. He believed that every thing that was 
marvellous was a lie, unless he told it himself; and sometimes 
even then, he had his doubts. He only wondered on one sub- 
ject; and that was, that there always happened to be about 
him such "a hell of a number of d— d fools;" and this won- 
der was constant, deriving new strength every day; and he 
wondered again at his inability to impress this comfortable 
truth upon the parties whom he so frequently, in every form 
and every where, and especially in their presence, sought to 
make realize its force and wisdom, by every variety of illus- 
tration; by all the eloquence of earnest conviction and solemn 
asseveration. 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 287 

If Sam had a sovereign contempt for any one more than 
another, it was for Sir William Blackstone, whom he regard- 
ed as " something between a sneak and a puke," and for 
whose superstitious veneration of the common law he felt 
about the same sympathy that Gen. Jackson felt for Mr. 
Madison's squeamishness on the subject of blood and car- 
nage, which the hero charged the statesman with not being 
able " to look on with composure " — (he might as well have 
said, pleasure). 

Squire Sam was of a good family — a circumstance he a 
good deal resisted, as some infringement on his privileg'es. 
He would have preferred to have been born at large, without 
any particular maternity or paternity; it would have been 
less local and narrow, and more free and roomy, and cos- 
mopolitan. 

There had once been good living in the family. This is 
evident from the fact that Sam had the gout; which proof, 
indeed, except vague traditions, which Sam rejected as un- 
worthy of a sensible man's belief, is the only evidence of 
this matter of domestic economy. Sam thought particularly 
hard of this; he considered it a monstrous outrage, that the 
only portion of the prosperous fortunes of his house which 
fell to his share, should have been a disease which had long 
survived the causes of it. As his teeth were set on edge, 
he thought it only fair he should have had a fev; of the 
grapes. 

Sam's estimate of human nature was not extravagant. 
He was not an optimist. He had not much notion of human 



288 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

perfectibility. He was not apt to be carried away by his 
feelings into any very overcharged appreciation either of 
particular individuals or the general race. I never heard 
him say what he thought would eventually become of most 
of them; but it was very evident, from the tenor of his un- 
stinted talk, what he thought ought to become of them, if 
transmundane affairs were regulated by principles of human 
justice. 

The particular community in which the Squire had set up 
his shingle was not, even in the eyes of a more partial judg- 
ment than he was in the habit of exercising upon men, ever 
supposed to be colonized by the descendants of the good 
Samaritan; and if they continued perverse, and persevered 
in iniquity, it was not Sam's fault — he did his duty by 
them. He cursed them black and blue, by night and by 
day. He spared not. In these diverlisements he exercised 
his faculties of description, prophecy and invective, largely. 
The humbugs suffered. Sam vastated them, as Swedenborg 
says they do with them in the other world, until he left little 
but a dark, unsavory void, in souls, supposed by their owners 
to be stored up, like a warehouse, with rich bales of heavenly 
merchandise. He pulled the dominos from their faces, and 
pelted the hollow masks over their heads lustily. These 
pursuits, laudable as they may be, are not, in the present 
constitution of village society, winning ways; and therefore 
I cannot truly say that Sam's popularity was universal; nor 
did it make up by intensity in particular directions, what it 
lacked of diffusion. Indeed, I may go so far as to say, that 
it was remarkable neither for surface nor depth. 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 289 

It is a profound truth, that the wounds of vanity are 
galling to a resentful temper, and that few people feel much 
obliged to a man who, purely from a love of truth, convinces 
the public that they are fools or knaves; or who excites a 
doubt in themselves touching the right solution of this prob- 
lem of mind and morals. Hence I may be allowed to doubt 
v/hether Sam's industry and zeal in these exercises of his 
talents — whatever effect they may have had on the commu- 
nity — essentially advanced this gentleman's personal or pe- 
cuniary fortunes. However, I am inclined to think that 
this result, so far from grieving, rather pleased the Squire. 
Having formed his own estimate of himself, he preferred 
that the estimate should stand, and not be shaken by a co- 
incidence of opinion on the part of those whose judgments 
in favor of a thing he considered was pretty good prima 
facie evidence against it. 

Sam's disposition to animadvert upon the community 
about him, found considerable aggravation in a state of ill 
health; inflaming his gout, and putting the acerbities and 
horrors of indigestion to the long account of other pro- 
vocatives, of a less physical kind, to these displays. For a 
while, Sam dealt in individual instances; but this soon 
grew too tame and insipid for his growing appetite; for 
invective is like brandy — the longer it is indulged in, the 
larger and stronger must be the dose. Sam began to take 
them wholesale; and he poured volley after volley into the 
devoted village, until you would have thought it in a state 
of siege. 



290 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

There had, a few days before, been a new importation 
from Yankeedom^ — not from its factory of calicoes, but from 
its factory of school-teachers. The article had been sent to 
order, from one of the interior villages of Connecticut. The 
Southern propensity of getting every thing from abroad, had 
extended to school-mistresses, — though the country had any 
number of excellent and qualified girls wishing such employ- 
ment at home, — as if, as in the case of wines, the process of 
importing added to the value. It was soon discovered that 
this article was a bad investment, and would not suit the 
market. Miss Charity Woodey was almost too old a plant 
to be safely transplanted. What she had been in her youth 
could not be exactly known; but if she ever had any charms, 
their day had long gone by. I do not mean to flatter her 
when I say I think she was the ugliest woman I ever saw — 
and I have been in places where saying that would be 
saying a good deal. Her style of homeliness was peculiar 
only in this — that it embraced all other styles. It is a 
wonderful combination which makes a beautiful woman; 
but it was almost a miracle, by which every thing that gives 
or gilds beauty was withheld from her, and every thing that 
makes or aggravates deformity was given with lavish gen- 
erosity. We suppose it to be a hard struggle when female 
vanity can say, hope, or think nothing in favor of its owner's 
personal appearance; but Miss Charity had got to this point: 
indeed, the power of human infatuation on this subject — for 
even it is not omnipotent — could not help her in this matter. 
She did not try to conceal it, but let the matter 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 391 

as if it were a thing not worth the trouble of thinking 
about. 

Miss Charity was one of those " strong-minded women 
of New England," who exchange all the tenderness of the 
feminine for an impotent attempt to attain the efficiency of 
the masculine nature; one of that fussy, obtrusive, meddling 
class, who, in trying to cloudle-sex themselves, unsex them- 
selves, losing all that is lovable in woman, and getting most 
of what is odious in man. 

She was a bundle of prejudices — stiff, literal, positive, 
inquisitive, inquisitorial, and biliously pious. Dooty, as she 
called it, v/as a great word with her. Conscience was an- 
other. These were engaged in the police business of life, 
rather than the heart and the affections. Indeed, she 
considered the affections as weaknesses, and the morals a 
sort of drill exercise of minor duties, and observances, 
and cant phrases. She was as blue as an indigo bag. 
The starch, strait-laced community she came from, she 
thought the very tip of the ton; and the little coterie of 
masculine women and female men — with its senate of sewing 
societies, cent societies, and general congress of missionary 
and tract societies — the parliaments that rule the world. 
Lower Frothingham, and Deacon Windy, and old Parson 
Beachman, and all the young Beachmans, constituted. In her 
eyes, a sort of Puritanic See, before which she thought 
Rome was in a state of continual fear and flutter. 

She had come out as a missionary of light to the chil- 
dren of the South, who dwell in the darkness of Heathen- 



292 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

esse. It was not long — only two days — before she began to 
set every thing to rights. The whole academy was astir 
v/ith her activity. The little girls, who had been petted by 
their fathers and mothers like doll-babies, were overhauled 
like so much damaged goods by her busy fingers, and were 
put into the strait-jacket of her narrow and precise system 
of manners and morals, in a way the pretty darlings had 
never dreamed of before. Her way was the Median and 
Persian law that never changed, and to which every thing 
must bend. Every thing was wrong. Every thing must 
be put right. Her hands, eyes, and tongue were never idle 
for a moment, and in her microscopic sense of dooiy and 
conscience, the little peccadilloes of the school swelled to the 
dimensions of great crimes and misdemeanors. 

It was soon apparent that she would have to leave, or the 
school be broken up. Like that great reformer Triptolemus 
Yellowby, she was not scant in delivering her enlightened 
sentiments upon the subject of matters and things about 
her, and on the subject of slavery in particular; and her 
sentiments on this subject were those of the enlightened 
coterie from which she came. 

The very consideration with which, in the unbounded 
hospitality and courtesy to woman in the South- West, she was 
treated, only served to inflame her self-conceit, and to con- 
firm her in her sense of Vv^hat her dooiy called on her to do 
for the benefit of the natives; especially to reforming things 
to the standard of New England insular habitudes. 

k small party was given one evening, and she was in- 



SAISLUEL IIELE, ESQ. 293 

vited. She came. Thero^ were some fifteen or twenty per- 
sons of bolh sexes there; among them our friend Sam, and 
a few of the young men of the place. The shocking fact must 
be related, that, on a sideboard in the back parlor was set 
out something cold, besides solid refreshments, to which the 
males who did not belong to the " Sons " paid their respects. 
A little knot of these v/ere laughing and talking around 
Sam, who, as usual, was exerting himself for the entertain- 
ment of the auditors, and, this time, in good humor. Some 
remarks were made touching Miss Charity, for whose soli- 
tary state — she was sitting up in the corner by herself, stiff 
as steelyards — some commiseration was expressed; and it 
was proposed that Sam should entertain her for the evening. 
And it was sug'gested to Sam that he should try his best to 
get her off, by giving her such a description of the country 
as would have that effect. " Now," said one of them, " Sam, 
you've been snarling at every thing about you so long, sup- 
pose you just try your best this time, and let off all your 
surplus bile at once, and give us some peace. Just go up 
to her, and let her have it strong. Don't spare brush or 
blacking, but paint the whole community so black, that the 
Devil himself might sit for the picture." Sam took a glass, 
and tossing it off, wiped his mouth, after a slight sigh of 
satisfaction, and promised, with pious fervor, that, " by the 
blessing of Heaven, he v^ould do his best."' 

One of the company v/ent to Miss Charity, and, after 
speaking in the highest terms of Sam as a New England 
man, and as one of the most intellectual, and reliable, and 



294 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

frank men in the country, and one, moreover, who had con- 
ceived a lively regard for her, asked leave to introduce him, 
which having been graciously given, Sam (having first re- 
freshed himself with another potation) was in due form 
introduced. 

Miss Woodey, naturally desirous of conciliating Squire 
Hele, opened the conversation with that gentleman, after 
the customary formalities, by saying something complimen- 
tary about the village. " And you say, madam," replied 
Sam, " that you have been incarcerated in this village for 
two weeks; and how, madam, have you endured it? Ah, 
madam, I am glad, on some accounts, to see you here. You 
came to reform: it was well. Such examples of female hero- 
ism are the poetry of human life. They are worth the mar- 
tyrdom of producing them. I read an affecting account the 
other day of a similar kind — a mother going to Wetumpka, 
and becoming the inmate of a penitentiary for the melan- 
choly satisfaction of waiting upon a convict son." 

Miss Woodey. — " Why, Mr. Hele, how you talk! You 
are surely jesting." 

Sam. — " Madam, there are some subjects too awfully se- 
rious for jest. A man had as well jest over the corruptions 
and fate of Sodom and Gomorrah — though, I confess, the 
existence of this place is calculated to excite a great deal of 
doubt of the destruction of those cities, and has, no doubt, 
placed a pov/erful weapon in the hands of infidelity through- 
out the immense region where the infamy of the place is 
known." 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 295 

Miss W. — "Why, Mr. Hele, 1 have heard a very cliffei- 
ent account of the place. Indeed, only the other evening, { 
heard at a party several of the ladies say they never knew 
any village so free from gossip and scandal." 

Sam. — "And so it is, madam. Men and women are free 
of that vice. I wish it were otherv/ise. It would be a sign 
of improvement, — as a man with fever when boils burst out 
on him, — an encouraging sign. Madam, the reason why 
there is no scandal here is, because there is not character 
enough to support it. Reputation is not appreciated. A 
man without character is as well off as a man with it. In 
the dark all are alike. You can't hurt a man here by say- 
ing any thing of him; for, say what you will, it is less than 
the truth, and less than he could afford to publish at the 
court-house door, and be applauded for it by the crowd. 
Besides, madam, every body is so busy with his own villainy, 
that no one has time to publish his neighbor's." 

Miss W. — " Really, Mr. Hele, you give a poor account 
of your neighbors. Are there no honest men among 
them?" 

Sam. — '• Why, — y-e-s, — a few. The lawyers generally 
acknowledge, and, as far as circumstances allow, practise, in 
their private characters, the plainer rules of morals; but 
really, they are so occupied in trying to carry out the villainy 
of others, they deserve no credit for it; for they have no 
time to do any thing on private account. There is also one 
preacher, who, I believe, when not in liquor, recognizes a 
few of the rudiments of moral obligation. Indeed, some 



i 



296 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

think he is not blamable for getting drunk, as he does it 
only in deference to the public sentiment. I express no 
opinion myself, for I think any man who has resided for ten 
years in these suburbs of hell, ought modestly to decline the 
expression of any opinion on any point of ethics for ever af- 
terwards." 

Miss W. — " But Mr. Hele, if all this villainy were going 
on, there would be some open evidence of it. I have not 
heard of a case of stealing since I've been here." 

8am. — "No, madam; and you wouldn't, unless a 
stranger came to town with something worth stealing; and 
perhaps not then; for it so common a thing that it hardly 
excites remark. The natives never steal from each other — I 
grant them that. The reason is plain. There are certain 
acquisitions which, with a certain profession, are sacred. 
' Honor among,' &c. — you know the proverb. Besides, the 
thief would be sure to be caught: 'Set a' — member of a 
certain class — you know that proverb, too. Moreover, all 
they have got they got, directly or indirectly, in that way — 
if getting a thing by purchase without equivalent, or taking 
it without leave is stealing, as any where else out of Christen- 
dom, except this debatable land between the lower regions 
and the outskirts of civilization, it is held to be. And to 
steal from one another would be repudiating the title by 
which every man holds property, and thus letting the common 
enemy, the true owner, in, whom all are interested in keeping 
out. Madam, if New-York, Mobile, and New Orleans were 
to get their own, they might inclose the whole town, and 



I 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 297 

labels the walls ' the lost and stolen office.' When a Ten- 
nesseean comes to this place with a load of bacon, they con- 
sider him a prize, and divide out what he has as so much 
prize money. They talk of a Kentucky hog-drover first 
coming in in the fall, as an epicure speaks of the first shad 
of the season." 

3Iiss W. — " The population seems to be intelligent 
and — " 

Sam (with Johnsonian oracularity). — "Seems — true; but 
they are not. Whether the population first took to rascality, 
and that degraded their intellects, or whether they were 
fools, and took to it for want of sense, is a problem which I 
should like to be able to solve, if I could only find some one 
old enough to have known them when they first took to 
stealing, or when they first began playing the fool; but that 
time is beyond the oldest memory. I can better endure ten 
rascals than one fool; but I am forced to endure both in 
one. I see, in a recent work, a learned writer traces the 
genealogy of man to the monkey tribe. I believe that this 
is true of this population; for the characteristic marks of a 
low, apish cunning and stealing, betray the paternity: but so 
low are they in all better qualities, that, if their respectable 
old ancestor the rib-nosed baboon, should be called to see 
them, he would exclaim, with uplifted paws, ' Alas, how 
degenerate is my breed! ' For they have left off all the 
good instincts of the beast, and improved only on his 
vices." 

Miss W. — " I have heard something of violent crimes. 



298 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

murders, and so forth, in tlie South-West, but I have never 
heard this particular community worse spoken of — " 

Sam. — " Madam, I acquit them of all crimes which re- 
quire any boldness in the perpetration. As to assassination, 
it occurs only occasionally, — when a countryman is found 
drunk, or something of the sort; and even assaults and bat- 
teries are not common. These occur only in the family cir- 
cle; such as a boy sometimes whipping his father when the 
old man is intoxicated, or a man whipping his wife when 
she is infirm of health: except these instances, I cannot say, 
with truth, that any charge of this kind can be substanti- 
ated. As to negroes — " 

Miss W. — " Do tell me, Mr. Hele — how do they treat 
tJiemf Is it as bad as they say? Do— do — they, — really, 
now — " 

Hele. — '"Miss W., this a very delicate subject; and 
what I tell you must be regarded as entirely confidential. 
Upon this subject there is a secrecy — a chilling mystery of 
silence — cast, as over the horrors and dungeons of the in- 
quisition. The way negroes are treated in this country 
would chill the soul of a New Holland cannibal. Why, 
madam, it was but the other day a case occurred over the 
river, on Col. Luke Gyves's plantation. Gyves had just 
bought a drove of negroes, and was marking them in his 
pen, — a slit in one ear and an underbit in the other was 
Luke's mark, — and a large mulatto fellow standing at 
the bull ring, where the overseer was just putting the number 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 299 

on his back with the branding-iron, when the nigger dog, 
seeing his struggles, caught him by the leg, and the negro- 
mad with the pain, — I don't think he did it intentionally, — 
seized the branding-irons, and put out the dog's — a favorite 
Cuba bloodhound — left eye. They took the negro down to 
the rack in the plantation dungeon-house, and, sending for 
the neighbors to come into the entertainment, made a Christ- 
mas frolic of the matter. They rammed a powder-horn 
down his throat, and lighting a slow match, went off to wait 
the result. When gone. Col. Gyves bet Gen. Sam Potter 
one hundred and fifty dollars that the blast would blow the 
top of the negro's head off; v/hich it did. Gen. Sam re- 
fused to pay, and the case was brought into the Circuit Court. 
Our judge, who had read a good deal more of Hoyle than 
Coke, decided that the bet could not be recovered, because 
Luke bet on a certainty; but fined Sam a treat for the crowd 
for making such a foolish wager, and adjourned court over 
to the grocery to enjoy it." 

Miss W. — " Why, Mr. Hele, it is a wonder to me that 
the fate of Sodom does not fall upon the country." 

Sam. — '• Why, madam, probably it would, if a single 
righteous man could be found to serve the notice. However, 
many think that its irredeemable wickedness has induced 
Heaven to withdraw the country from its jurisdiction, and 
remit it to its natural, and, at last, reversionary proprietors, 
the powers of hell. It subserves, probably, a useful end, to 
stand as a vivid illustration of the doctrine of total de- 
pravity. 



300 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

Miss W. — " But, Mr. Hele, — do tell me, — do they nom 
part the young children from their mothers — poor things? " 

Sam. — " Why, no, — candidly, — they do not very much, 
now. The women are so sickly, from overwork and scant 
feeding and clothing, that the child is worth little for 
the vague chance of living. But when cotton was fifteen 
cents a pound, and it was cheaper to take away the child 
than to take up the mother's time in attending to it, they 
used to send them to town, of a Sunday, in hig hamper 
baskets, for sale, by the dozen. The boy I have got in my 
office I got in that way — but he is the survivor of six, the 
rest dying in the process of raising. There was a great 
feud between the planters on this side of Sanotchie, and 
those on the other side, growing out of the treatment of 
negro children. Those who sold them off charged the other 
siders with inhumanity, in drowning theirs, like blind pup- 
pies, in the creek; which was resented a good deal at the 
time, and the accusers denounced as abolitionists. I did hear 
of one of them, Judge Duck Swinger, feeding his nigger 
dogs on the young varmints, as he called them; but I don't 
believe the story, it having no better foundation than cur- 
rent report, public belief, and general assertion." 

Miss W. (sighing). — "Oh, Mr. Hele! are they not afraid 
the negroes will rise on them?" 

Sam. — " Why, y-e-s, they do occasionally, and murder a 
few families, — especially in the thick settlements, — but less 
than they did before the patrol got up a subscription among 
the planters to contribute a negro or two apiece, every month 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 301 

or SO, to be publicly hung, or burned, for the sake of example. 
And, to illustrate the character of the population, let me 
just tell you how Capt. Sam Hanson did at the last hang- 
ing. Instead of throwing in one of his own negroes, as an 
honest ruffian would have done, he threw in yellow Tom, a 
free negro; another threw in an estate negro, and reported 
him dead in the inventory; while Squire Bill Measly 
painted an Indian black and threw him in, and hung him for 
one of his Pocahontas negroes, as he called some of his half- 
breed stock." 

Miss W. — " Mr. Hele! what is to become of the rising 
generation — the poor children — I do feel so much for them 
— with such examples? " 

Sam. — " Madam, they are past praying for — there is one 
consolation. Let what will become of them, they will get less 
than their deserts. Why, madam, such precocious villainy 
as theirs the world has never seen before: they make their 
own fathers ashamed of even their attainments and profi- 
ciency in mendacity; they had good teaching, though. Why, 
Miss Woodey, a father here never thinks well of a child 
until the boy cheats him at cards: then he pats him on the 
head, and says, 'Well done, Tommy, here's a V.; go, buck 
it off on a horse-race next Sunday, and we'll go snooks — 
and, come, settle fair, and no cheating around the board. 
The children here at twelve years have progressed in vil- 
lainy beyond the point at which men get, in other countries, 
after a life of industrious rascality. They spent their rainy 
Sundays, last fall, in making a catechism of oaths and pro- 



302 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

fanity for the Indians, vvhose dialect was wanting in those 
accomplishments of Anglo-Saxon literature. There is not 
a scoundrel among them that is not ripe for the gallows at 
fourteen. At five years of age, they follow their fathers 
around to the dram-shops, and get drunk on the heel-taps." 

Miss W. — " The persons about here don't look as if they 
were drunk." 

Sam. — " Why, madam, it is refreshing to hear you talk 
in that way. No, they are not drunk. I wish they were. 
It would be an astonishing improvement, if dissipation would 
only recede to that point at which men get drunk. But 
they have passed that point, long ago. I should as soon 
expect to see a demijohn stagger as one of them. Besides, 
the liquor is all watered, and it would require more than a 
man could hold to make him drunk: but the grocery keeper 
defends himself on the ground, that it is only two parts 
water, and he never gets paid for more than a third he sells. 
But I never speak of these small things; for, in such a god- 
less generation, venial crimes stand in the light of flaming 
virtues. Indeed, we always feel relieved when we see one 
of themi dead drunk, for then we feel assured he is not 
stealing." 

Miss W. — '' But, Mr. Hele, is there personal danger to 
be apprehended — by a woman? — now — for instance — ex- 
pressing herself freely?'" 

Sam. — " No, madam, not if she carries her pistols, as 
they generally do 7ioiv, when they go out. They are usu- 
ally insulted, and sometimes mobbed. They mobbed a Yan- 



SAMUEL HELE, ESQ. 303 

kee school-mistress here, some time ago, for saying something 
against slavery; but I believe they only tarred and feathered 
her, and rode her on a rail for a few squares. Indeed, I 
heard some of the boys at the grocery, the other night, talk 
of trying the same experiment on another; but ivho it was, 
1 did not hear them say." 

Here Sam made his bow and departed, and, over a plate 
of oysters and a glass of hot stuff, reported progress to the 
meeting whose committee he was, but declined leave to sit 
again. 

The next morning's mail-stage contained two trunks and 
four bandboxes, and a Yankee schoolmistress, ticketed on 
the Northern line; and, in the hurry of departure, a letter, 

addressed to Mrs. Harriet S , was found, containing 

some interesting memoranda and statistics on the subject of 
slavery and its practical workings, w^hich I should never 
thought of again had I not seen something like them in a 
very popular fiction, or rather book of fictions, in which the 
slaveholders are handled with something less than feminine 
delicacy and something more than masculine unfairness. 

[Sam takes the credit of sending Miss Charity off, but 
Dr. B., the principal, negatives this: he says he had to give 
her three hvmdred dollars and pay her expenses back to get 
lid of her; and that she received it, saying she intended to 
return home and live at ease, the balance of her life, on the 
interest of the money.] 



304 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



JOHN STOUT, ESQ., AND MARK 
SULLIVAN. 

Maek Sullivan was imprisoned in the Sumter county- 
jail, having changed the venue and place of residence from 
Washington county, where he had committed a murder. 
John Stout was an old acquaintance of Mark's, and being of 
a susceptible nature when there was any likelihood of a fee, 
was not a man to stand on ceremony or the etiquette of the 
profession. He did not wait to be sent for, but usually hur- 
ried post-haste to comfort his friends, when in the dis- 
consolate circumstances of the unfortunate Mark. John 
had a great love for the profession, and a remarkable perse- 
verance under discouraging circumstances, having clung to 
the bar after being at least twice stricken from the roll, for 
some practice indicating a much greater zeal for his clients 
than for truth, justice, or fair dealing: but he had managed 
to get reinstated on promises of amendment, which were, we 
fear, much more profuse than sincere. John's standard of 
morality was not exalted, nor were his attainments in the 
profession great; having confined himself mostly to a class 



JOHN STOUT, ESQ., AND MARK SULLIVAN. 305 

of cases and of clients better suited to give notoriety than 
enviable reputation to the practitioner. He seemed to have 
a separate instinct, like a carrion crow's, for the filthy; and 
he snuffed up a tainted atmosphere, as Swedenborg says 
certain spirits do, with a rare relish. But with all John's 
industry and enterprise, John never throve, but at fifty years 
of age, he was as seedy and threadbare in clothes as in 
character. He had no settled abode, but was a sort of Cal- 
muc Tartar of the Law, and roamed over the country gen- 
erally, stirring up contention and breeding dirty lawsuits, 
fishing up fradulent papers, and hunting up complaisant 
witnesses to very apocryphal facts. 

Well, on one bright May morning. Squire Stout presented 
himself at the door of the jail in Livingston, and asked ad- 
mittance, professing a desire to see Mr. Mark Sullivan, an 
old friend. Harvey Thompson, the then sheriff, admitted 
him to the door within, and which stood between Mark and 
the passage. John desired to be led into the room in which 
Mark was, wishing, he said, to hold a private interview 
with Mark as one of Mark's counsel; but Harvey pe- 
remptorily refused — telling him, however, that he might talk 
with the prisoner in his presence. The door being thrown 
back, left nothing but the iron lattice-work between the 
friends, and Mark, dragging his chain along, came to the 
door. At first, he did not seem to recognize John; but 
John, running his hand through the interstices, grasped 
Mark's with fervor, asking him, at the same time, if it were 
possible that he had forgotten his old friend. John Stout 



Mark, as most men in durance, was not slow to recognize 
any friendship, real or imaginary, that might be made to 
turn out to advantage, and, of course, allowed the claim, and 
expressed the pleasure it gave him to see John. John soon 
got his hydraulics in readiness, — for sympathy and pathetic 
eloquence are wonderfully cheap accessories to rascality, — 
and begun applying his handkerchief to his eyes with great 
energy. " Mark, my old friend, you and I have been 
friends many a long year, old fellow; we have played many 
a game of seven up together, Mark, and shot at many a 
shooting match, Mark, and drunk many a gallon of ' red- 
eye ' together; — and to think, Mark, my old friend and 
companion, that I loved and trusted like a brother, Mark, 
should be in this dreadful fix, — far from wife, children, 
and friends, Mark, — it makes a child of me, and I can't — 
control — my feelings." (Here John wept with considerable 
vivacity, and doubled up an old bandanna handkerchief and 
mopped his eyes mightily.) (Mark v/as not one of the cry- 
ing sort. He was a Roman-nosed, eagle-eyed ruffian of a 
fellow, some six feet two inches high, and with a look and 
step that the McGregor himself might feel entitled him to 
be respected on the heather. 

So Mark responded to this lachrymal ebullition of Stout's 
a little impatiently: ''Hoot, man, what are you making all 
that how-de-do for? It aint so bad as you let on. To be sure, 
it aint as pleasant as sitting on a log by a camp fire, with a tick- 
ler of the reverend stuff, a pack of the documents and two or 
three good fellows, and a good piece of fat deer meat roast- 



JOHN STOUT, ESQ., AND MARK SULLIVAN. 307 

ing at the end of a ramrod; but, for all that, it aint so bad 
as might be: they can't do nothing with me; it was done 
fair, — it was an old quarrel. We settled it in the old way: 
I had my rifle, and I plugged him fust — he might a knowed 
I would. It was devil take the hindmost. It wasn't my 
fault he didn't draw trigger fust — they can't hurt me for it. 
But I hate to be stayin' here so long, and the fishin' time 
comin' on, too — it's mighty hard, but it can't be holped, I 
suppose." (And here Mark heaved a slight sigh.) 

'•Ah, Mark," said John, "I aint so certain about that; 
that is, unless you are particular well defended. You see, 
Mark, it aint now like it used to be in the good old times. 
They are getting new notions now-a-days. Since the peni- 
tentiary has been built, they are got quare ways of doing 
things,— they are sending gentlemen there reg'lar as pig- 
tracks. I believe they do it just because they've got an idea 
it lielps to pay taxes. When it used to be neck or nothin', 
why, one of the young hands could clear a man; but now it 
takes the best sort of testimony, and the smartest sort of 
lawyers in the market, to get a friend clear. The way things 
are goin' on now, murdering a man will be no better than 
stealin' a nigger, after a while." 

" Yes," said Mark, '"things is going downwards, — there 
aint no denyin' of that. I know'd the time in old Washing- 
ton, v/hen people let gentleme?! settle these here little mat- 
ters their own v/ay, and nobody interfered, but minded their 
own business. And now you can't put an inch or two of 
knife in a fellow, or lam him over the head a few times with 



308 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

« 

a light-wood knot, but every little lackey must poke his nose 
into it, and Law, law, law, is the word, — the cowardly, nasty 
slinks; and then them lawyers must have their jaw in it, 
and bow, bow wow, it goes; and the juror, they must have 
their say so in it; and the sherrer, he must do something, 
too; and the old cuss that grinds out the law to 'em in the 
box, he must have his how-de-do about it; and then the wit- 
nesses, they must swear to ther packs of lies — and the law- 
j^ers git to bawlin' and bellerin', like Methodist preachers at 
a camp meetin' — allers quarrellin' and no fightin' — jawin' 
and jawin' back, and sich eternal lyin' — I tell you. Stout, 1 
won't stay in no such country. When I get out of here, I 
mean to go to Texas, whar a man can see some peace, and 
not be interfered with in his private consarns. All this 
come about consekens so many new settlers comin' in the 
settlemen,^, bringin' their new-fool ways with 'em. The fust 
of it was two preachers comin' along. I told 'em 'twould 
never do — and if my advice had been tuk, the thing could 
a been stopped in time; but the boys said they wanted to 
hear the news them fellers fotch'd about the Gospel and 
sich — and there was old Ramsouser's mill-pond so handy, 
too! — but it's too late now. And then the doggery-keepers 
got to sellin' licker by the drink, instead of the half-p^'nt, 
and a dime a drink at that; and then the Devil was to pay, 
and NO mistake. But they cant hurt me, John. They'll 
have to let me out: and ef it wasn't so cussed mean, I'd 
take the law on 'em, and sue 'em for damages; but then it 
would be throw'd up to my children, that Mark Sullivan tuk 



JOHN STOUT, ESQ., AND MARK SULLIVAN. 309 

the law on a man; and, besides, Stout, I've got another way 
of settlin' the thing up, — in the old way, — ef my life is 
spared, and Providence favors me. But that aint nothin' to 
the present purpose. John, where do you live now?" 

John. — " I'm living in Jackson, Mississippi, now, Mark, 
and hearing you were in distress, I let go all holds, and 
came to see you. Says I, my old friend Mark Sullivan is in 
trouble, and I must go and see him out; and says my wife: 
' John Stout, you pretend you never deserted a friend, and 
here you are, and your old friend Mark Sullivan, that you 
thought so much of, laying in jail, when you, if any man 
could, can get him clear.' Now, Mark, I couldn't stand 
that. When my wife throw'd that up to me, I jist had my 
horse got out, and travelled on, hardly stopping day or 
night, till I got here. And the U. S. Court was in session, 
too, and a big lawsuit was coming on for a million of dollars. 
I and Prentiss and George Yerger was for the plaintiff, and 
we were to get five thousand dollars, certain, and a hundred 
thousand dollars if we gained it. I went to see George, be- 
fore I left, and George said I must stay — it would never do. 
Says he, ' John,' — he used always to call me John, — ' you 
know,' — which I did, Mark, — that our client relies on you, 
and you must be here at the trial. I can fix up the papers, and 
Prent. can do the fancy work to the jury; but when it comes 
to the heavy licks of the law, John, you are the man, and 
no mistake.'' And just then Prentiss come in, and, after 
putting his arm and sorter hugging me to him, — which vv^as 
Prent.'s way with his intimate friends — says, ' John, my old 



310 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

friend, you have to follow on our side, and you must mash 
Sam Boyd and Jo Holt into Scotch snuff; and you'll do it, 
too, John: and after gaining the case, we'll have a frolic 
that will suck the sweet out of the time of day.' And then 
Yerger up and tells Prentiss about my going off; and Pren- 
tiss opened his eyes, and asked me if I was crazy; and I 
told him jist this: says I, ' Prent, you are a magnanimous 
man, that loves his friend, aint you? ' and Prentiss said he 
hoped he was. And then said I, 'Prentiss, Mark Sullivan 
is my friend, and in jail, away from his wife and children, 
and nobody to get him out of that scrape; and may be, if I 
don't go and defend him — there is no knowing what may 
come of it; and how could I ever survive to think a friend 
of mine had come to harm for want of my going to him in 
the dark, dismal time of his distress.' (Here John took 
out the handkerchief again, and began weeping, after a fash- 
ion Mr. Alfred Jingle might have envied, even when per- 
forming for the benefit of Mr. Samuel Weller.) 'No,' said 
I, 'Sergeant Prentiss, let the case go to h — 1, for me; — John 
Stout and Andrew Jackson never deserted a friend, and 
never will.' Said Prentiss, • John, I admire your princi- 
ples; give us your hand, old fellow; and come, let us take 
a drink;' — for Prent. was always in the habit of treating his 
noble sentiments — George wasn't. Well, Mark, you see I 
came, and am at your service through thick and thin." 

" Yes," said Mark, " I'm much obleeged to you, John, 
but I'm afeered I can't afford to have you, — you're too dear 
an article for my pocket; besides, I've got old John Gayle 
and I reckon he'll do." 



JOHN STOUT, ESQ., AND MARK SULLIVAN. ^\\ 

" Why," said John, " I don't dispute, Mark, but that 
the old Governor is some punkins, — you might have done 
worse. I'll not disparage any of my brethren. I'll say to 
his back what I've said to his face. You might do worse 
than get old John — but, Mark, two heads are better than 
one; and though I may say it, when it comes to the genius 
licks of the law in these big cases, it aint every man in your 
fix can get such counsel. Now, Mark, money is money, and 
feelings is feelings; and I don't care if I do lose the case at 
Jackson. If you will only secure two hundred dollars to pay 
expenses, I am your man, and you're as good as cleared al- 
ready." 

But Mark couldn't or wouldn't come into these reason- 
able terms, and his friend Stout left him in no very amiable 
mood, — having quite recovered from the fit of hysterics into 
which he had fallen, — and Mark turned to Thompson, and 
making sundry gyrations with his fingers upon a base formed 
by his nose, his right thumb resting thereon, seemed to inti- 
mate that John Stout's proposition and himself were little 
short of a humbug, which couldn't win. 

Mark, though ably and eloquently defended, was con- 
victed at the next court, and was sentenced to the peniten- 
tiary for life. And Stout, speaking of the result afterwards, 
said he did not wonder at it, for the old rascal, after having 
sent for him all the way from Jackson, higgled with him on 
a fee of one thousand dollars, when he, in indignant disgust 
at his meanness, left him to his fate. 



312 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



MR. ONSLOW. 

It is amusing to witness the excitement of the lawyers 
concerned in the trial of a long and severely-contested case, 
after the argument is concluded, and the judge is giving the 
jury charges as to the law. In Mississippi, the practice is 
for the counsel to prepare written charges after the case is 
argued, to be offered when the jury are about retiring from 
the box; and the Court gives or refuses them as it approves 
or disapproves of them, — sometimes altering them to suit 
its own views of the law. 

On one occasion, a case was tried of some difficulty and 
complexity, involving the title to a negro, which had been 
run off from a distant part of the State, and sold in Nox- 
ubee county by a man, v/ho had, previously to running him, 
mortgaged him to the plaintiff. The negro had been in the 
county for a good while before he was discovered; and the 
present holder had been sued — Mr. Onslow being the attorney 
for the mortgagee, and indeed it was understood, having some 
other rights in the litigation than those of counsel. The 
defendant had retained Henry G y and James T. 



MR. ONSLOW. 313 

H , Esqrs., ingenious youth, who were duly and fully 

prepared, and especially willing, to exhaust all the law there 
was, and a good deal there wasn't, to defeat the plaintiff's 
recovery in the premises. 

Mr. Onslow appeared alone. Indeed, he would have 
scorned assistance in such a proceeding. He had come on 
horseback from the Mississippi Swamp, on no other busi- 
ness than to attend to this case. His preparation was ar- 
duous and thorough — his zeal apostolic. No doubt he had 
made the pine-trees sweat rezinous tears, " voiding their 
rheum," and had made the very stumps ache, and the leaves 
quiver, as he journeyed on, rehearing the great speech he in- 
tended to make in the to-be celebrated case of Hugginson vs. 
McLeod. He was a peculiar-looking man, was Mr. Onslow. 
Rising six feet in his stockings, large-boned, angular, mus- 
cular, without an ounce of surplus flesh, he was as active and 
as full of energy as a panther. His head was long and 
large, the features irregular and strongly-marked, face florid, 
eyes black, restless and glaring, mouth like a wolf-trap, and 
muscles twitching and shaking like a bov/1 of jelly, and 
hair a reddish-brown — about as much of it as Absalom car- 
ried, but of such independence of carriage that it stuck up 
all around, " like quills upon the fretful porcupine." He 
was a sort of walking galvanic battery; charged full in every 
fibre with the electric current. If a man had run his hand 
over his hair in a dark room across the grain, the sparks 
would have risen as from the back of a black cat. We have 
not heard from him since the spiritual rappings, table tip- 



314 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

pings, and movings were the vogue, — but we will go our old 
hat against a julep, that if the spirits would not come at his 
bidding, they have quit coming from the vasty deep, or closed 
business, Mr. N. P. Tallmadge, or any other medium to the 
contrary notwithstanding: and if he couldn't set a table 
going by the odic force, the whole thing is a proved hum- 
bug. He was a speaker of decided power, — indeed of tre- 
mendous power. When he spoke, he spoke in earnest. He 
went it with a most vigorous vim. He had taken a cataract 
and hurricane for his model. Such a bellowing, — such a fiery 
fury, of fuss and noise, would sink into a modest silence a 
whole caravan of howling dervishes. Jemmy T. thought he 
could be heard when he let himself out two miles: I think 
this extravagant, — I should think not more than a mile and 
a half. When he drew in a long breath, and bore his weight 
on his voice, the very rafters seemed to move: but his voice 
was not all. He grew as rampant as a wolf in high oats, 
— jumping up, rearing around, and squatting low, and sid- 
ling about — forwards, backwards — beating benches — knock- 
ing the entrails out of law-books — running over chairs, and 
clearing out the area for ten feet around him, whirling about 
like a horse with the blind staggers; while he quivered all over 
like a galvanized frog. He usually let off as much caloric 
as would have fed the lungs of the Ericsson. 

Innumberable were the points and half-points made during 
the progress of the case, and Onslow was fortunate enough 
to win on most of these. At every ruling that was made 
in his favor, he would suck in his breath with a long inspira- 



MR. ONSLOW. 315 

tion, smile a spasmodic smile of grisly satisfaction, and 
smack his lips. He was in high feather, and on excellent 
terms with the judg'e, whose rulings he would indorse with 
marked empressement. 

After he had bellowed his last, he took his seat; and 
the judge asked the counsel if they desired any charges. 

Onslow rose, and told the Court he had a few. He 
drew out of his hat about six pages of foolscap, on which 
was written twenty-two charges, elaborately drawn out, — 
some of them long enough to have been divided into chap- 
ters, — and the whole might have been modified and indexed 
to advantage. The defendant's counsel, while Onslow was 
reading his charges, sent up to the bench a single instruc- 
tion couched in a few words. 

Onslow read his charge 1. in a loud and argumentative 
voice — th^ Court gave it: "Exactly, your honor," observed 
O., and so on to the 22d, which was also given, Onslow bow- 
ing and smiling, and his face glowing out, from anxiety to 
assurance, as the charge was read and given, like a lighting- 
bug's tail, giving light out of darkness. 

After he got through reading the charges, he handed 
them to the judge. Hon. H. S. B. was on the bench — one 
of the best judges in the State. He turned to the jury, 
" Gentlemen," said he, " listen to the instructions the Court 
gives you in this case." 

He then read the first instruction of Onslow, in a clear, 
decided- tone; at the conclusion of it O. sighed heavily, — 
so with the next, and so on: Onslow all this time gazing 



316 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

with rapt attention upon the judge, and his mouth motion- 
ing with the judge's — like a school-boy writing O's in his 
first copy — and at the end of every charge ejaculating 
"Exactly, your honor! " 

After getting through these charges, the judge remarked: 
"And now, gentlemen, I give you this charge for the defend- 
ant." Onslow stopped breathing, as the judge slowly sylla- 
bled out, " But notwithstanding — all — this — it being — an 
admitted — fact — that — the mortgage — was — not — recorded 
— in — Noxu — bee — county — you — must — fi — n — d for the 
d — e — fen — dant." As this was going on, Onslow was com- 
pletely psycholognized: he stared until his eyes looked as if 
they would pop out — his lower jaw dropped — and putting 
his hand to his head, involuntarily exclaimed — "Oh, hell! 
your honor!" 

He left in the course of ten minutes, to start on a return 
journey of three hundred miles, in mid-winter, and such 
roads — through the woods to the Mississippi Swamp. — 
'' PTiansy his phelinks." 



JO. HEYFKON. 

Judge Stabling, of Mississippi, had become very sensi- 
tive because the lawyers insisted on arguing points after he 
had decided them. So he determined to put a stop to it. But 
Jo. Heyfron, an excellent lawyer, who had every thing of 



JO. HEYFRON. 317 

the Emerald Isle about him, but its greenness, — was the 
wrong one for the decisive judicial experiment to be com- 
menced on. Jo. knew too much law, and the judge too 
little, for an equality of advantages. On the occasion re- 
ferred to, just as the judge had pronounced a very peremp- 
tory and a very ridiculous decision, Jo. got up in his depre- 
cating way, with a book in his hand, and was about to speak, 
when the Judge thundered out, "Mr. Heyfron! you have 
been practising, sir, before this Court long enough to know 
that when this Court has once decided a question, the pro- 
priety of its decision can only be reviewed in the High 
Court of Errors & Appeals! Take your seat, sir!" 

'•'If your honor plase!" broke out Jo., in a manner 
that would have passed for the most beseeching, if a sly 
twinkle in the off corner of his eye had not betokened the 
contrary, — ■" if your honor plase! far be it from me to im- 
pugn in the slightest degray, the wusdom and proprietay of 
your honor's decision! I marely designed to rade a few 
lines from the volume I hold in my hand, that your honor 
might persave how profoundly aignorant Sir Wulliam Block- 
stone was upon this subject." 

The judge looked daggers, but spoke none; and Hey- 
fron sat down, immortal. His body is dead, but he still 
lives, for his brilliant retort, in the anecdotal reminiscences 
of the South- Western bar. The anecdote has already (in a 
different, but incorrect form) had the run of the news- 
papers. 



318 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



OLD UNCLE JOHN OLIVE. 

Attending the Kemper Court one day, and engaged in a 
cause then going on, and which the adverse counsel was 
arguing to the jury (something in the nature of a suit for 
trespass for suing out execution and levying it on some corn 
reserved under the poor debtor's law), I saw this venerable 
old father in Israel playing bo-peep over the railing behind 
the bar, and giving me sundry winks and beckonings to come 
to him. 

Uncle John was a gentleman of the old school, if, indeed, 
he was not before there was any school. He was some sev- 
enty or seventy-five years old, perhaps a little older. His 
physique was remarkable. He looked more like an ante- 
diluvian boy than a man. He was some four feet and a 
half or five feet high, rather large for that height, and taper- 
ing off with a pair of legs marking Hogarth's line of beauty, 
^an elegant curve, something on the style of a pair of pot- 
hooks. His beard and hair were grizzly gray, and the face 
oval, with a high front in the region of benevolence; but which, 
I believe, no one ever knew the sense of being placed there: 



OLD UNCLE JOHN OLIVE. 3X9 

for all of Uncle John's benefactions together, would not have 
amounted to a supper of bones for a hungry dog. Uncle 
John's eyes were black or black-ish, with sanguine trimmings, 
as if lined by red fereting. He had a voice with a double 
wabble — and, especially when he tried it on the vowels, he 
ran up some curious notes on the gamut, and eked out the 
sound with a very useless expenditure of accent. Uncle 
John Olive belonged to the Baptist Church, — hard-shell 
division, but took it with the privilege: he had a thirst like 
the prairies in the dog-days, and it took nearly as much of 
the liquid to refresh it. But much as Uncle John loved the 
ardent restoratives, he loved money quite as well; and there 
was a continual warfare going on in Uncle John's breast be- 
tween these aspiring rivals: but this led to a compromise. 
Uncle John treated both with equal impartiality: he drank 
very freely, but drank very cheap liquors, making up for any 
lack of quality, by no economy of quantity. 

Uncle John's scheme of life was simple. It was but a 
slight improvement on Indian modes. He lived out in 
the woods, in a hut which an English nobleman would have 
considered poor quarters for his dogs. The furniture was 
in keeping, and his table was in keeping with the furniture. 
His whole establishment would probably have brought fif- 
teen dollars. The entire civil list of the old gentleman 
could not have cost seventy-five dollars to answer its 
demands. He had no white person in his family except him- 
self—and about fifteen negroes, of all sorts and sizes. He 
worked some six or seven hands, but being of a slow turn. 



320 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

and very old-fogyish in his notions, he did not succeed very 
well with them, either in governing them or making much 
of a crop: about a bale to the hand was the extent to which 
Uncle John ever went, even in the best seasons. But as he 
spent nothing except for some articles of the last necessity, 
he managed to lay up every year some few dollars, which he 
kept in specie, hid in a hole under a plank of the floor, 
in an old chest. This close economy and saving way of 
life, kept up for about fifty-five years, had at length made 
old Uncle John Olive worth some ten thousand dollars. 
He had made it wholly by parsimony. He was habitually 
and without exception the closest man I ever saw, — as close 
as the bark is to a tree, or as green is to a leaf. 

He was dressed in home-made linsey, and as he went gan- 
dering it along, you would take him for the survivor of those 
Dutchmen whom Irving tells of, rolling the ninepins down 
the cave in the Kaatskill Mountains, when Rip Van Winkle 
went to see them; except that Uncle John did not carry 
the keg of spirits on his shoulder, — but generally in his 
belly. 

A circle of a mile drawn around Uncle John would have 
embraced all he knew and more than he knew oi this breath- 
ing world, its ways and works, and plan and order; except 
what he got item of at the market-town or at the court- 
house. All beyond that circle was mystery. Uncle John 
was a silent man, — he used his tongue for little except to 
taste his liquor, — and his eyes and ears were open always, 
though I suspect there must have been some stoppage in the 



OLD UNCLE JOHN OLIVE. 321 

way to the brain: for the more Uncle John heard and ob- 
served, the more he ^seemed not to know about matters seen 
and heard. But a more faithful attention I never heard of. 
Uncle John was in the habit of attending court, and gave 
his special attention to the matters there carried on: the 
way he would listen to an argument on a demurrer or an 
abstract point of law, might be a lesson and example to the 
most patient Dutch commentator. He would stare with a 
gaze of rapt attention upon the Court and Counsel, occa- 
sionally shifting one leg, and uttering a slight sigh as some 
one of them closed the argument; and stretching his head 
forward, and putting his hand behind his ear to catch the 
sound as the Court suggested something, though he never 
understood a single word of what was going on. Towards 
the end of a long discussion, Uncle John would begin to 
flag a little, wiping the perspiration from his brow, as if the 
exercise of listening were very fatiguing — as, indeed, in not 
a few instances, it might well have been. 

On the occasion referred to in the opening, Uncle John 
called me, and after the salutations, told me he wanted to see 
me right then on business of importance. I should have 
said before that I had had some business of Uncle John's in 
hand, which I discharged entirely to his satisfaction; not 
charging the venerable old gentleman any thing, but getting 
my fee out of another person through whose agency the old 
man had got into the difficulty. This being Uncle John's 
first and only lawsuit, though the matter was very sim- 
ple, gave him a high opinion of my professional abilities. 



322 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

Indeed, next to his man Remus Simpson, the " foreman of 
the crap," whom he was in the habit of consulting on " diflfi- 
cult pints," I stood higher with Uncle John than any one 
else as " a raal judgmatical man." I hope I state the fact 
with a feeling of becoming modesty. In the way of law, 
Uncle John evidently thought the law would be behaving it- 
self very badly, if it did not go the way I wished it; and 
looked to my opinion not so much as to what the law was, as 
what it was to be after I spoke the word. 

I told Uncle John Olive that I was a good deal pressed 
fcr time just at that moment, as a case was going on in which 
I was concerned; but as it was he, Uncle John, I would 
spare him a few moments. And so I left Duncan to ha- 
rangue the jury until I could confer with the old man, and took 
him into, the vacant jury-room on the same floor, and shut 
the door. " Well," said I, '' Uncle John, I hope nothing se- 
rious has happened — [which was a lie, for I was, in the then 
(and I might lay the fact with a continuando) depressed 
state of my fiscality, — I confess I was a little anxious for 
something to happen in order to relieve the same, and was 
just doing a little mental arithmetic; figuring up what I 
should charge the old man, whether a fifty or a hundred; 
but concluding to take the fifty, rather than hazard the 
chance of bluffing the old man off.] 

" But," said the old man, " they is, I tell you. 
B-a-a-A-w-ling — Bawling, Virgil C-o-A-A-n-non won't do to 
tie to no way you can fix it — Bawling." 

" Why," said I, " Uncle John, I must confess the con- 
duct of that young man has not altogether — (here the sheriff 



OLD UNCLE JOHN OLIVE. 323 

called me at the door) but Uncle John, quick I'm called — " 
" Well, Bawling, I reckon it don't make much odds about 
your going back — you've told that juror what they must do 
wonce, and I reckon they wont ha' a furgot it by this time, 
Bawling." 

" Yes, — but they are obstinate sometimes, Uncle John, 
and I must go — quick now — Uncle John — You say Cannon 
did — what to you." 

"Why, Bawling — Virgil Cannon — he had been a whip- 
pin' my nigger, Remus — Remus told me so hisself, and I kin- 
prove it by Remus and sore-legged Jim — jest 'cause Remus 
sassed him — when he sassed Remus fust — when he, Virgil 
Cannon, should have said, as Remus heerd, that Virgil Can- 
non should ov said Remus stole his corn — I went to see 
Virgil Cannon, and ' Virgil Cannon,' says I, — jest in them 
words I said it. Bawling; ' you nasty, stinking villain, what 
did you whip my nigger, Remus, fur?' And what you 
think Bawling, Virgil Cannon should have said?" (here was a 
long emphatic stony stare.) "Why I don't know, Uncle 
John," replied I. " Why, Bawling, Virgil Cannon should ov 
said to me, says he, ' Go to h — 11, you d — d old bow-legged 
puppy, and kiss my foot' — Now, Bawling, what would you 
advise me to do. Bawling?" 

" Well," said I, " old man, / would advise you not to do 
it. Good-bye, I must go." And I left the old fellow stiff 
as a pillar staring at the place which I left. 

I don't know how long he remained there — for I pitched 
into the case, and the Avay I made the fire fly from parties, 
witnesses and counsel, in the corn case, was curious. 



324 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 



EXAMINING A CANDIDATE FOR 
LICENSE. 

Some time in the year of Grace, 1837 or 8, during the session 
of the Circuit Court of N * * * * * Mississippi, Mr. 
Thomas Jefferson Knowly made known to his honor, his 
(K.'s) respectful desire to be turned into a lawyer. Such re- 
quests, at that time, were granted pretty much as a matter of 
course. Practising law, like shinplaster banking or a fight, 
was pretty much a free thing; but the statute required a cer- 
tain formula to be gone through, which was an examination 
of the candidate by the Court, or under its direction. The 
Judge appointed Henry G * * * and myself to put him 
through, a task we undertook with much pleasure. Jeffer- 
son, or Jeff, as he was called for short, had been lounging 
about the court-house for some time, refreshing his mind with 
such information as he could thus pick up on the trial of cases, 
and from the discussion of the bar in reference to the laws 
of his country. Having failed in the dry-goods line at the 
cross roads, he was left at leisure to pursue some other call- 



EXAMINING A CANDIDATE FOR LICENSE. 335 

ing without being disturbed by any attention to his bill-book. 
He had taken up a favorable opinion of the law from the 
glimpses he had got of its physiognomy; and, having borrow- 
ed an old copy of Blackstone, went to work to master its 
contents as well as he could. He had reached about thirty- 
five years when this hallucination struck him. He was a 
stout, heavy fellow — with a head that Spurzheim might have 
envied: though the contents thereof did not give any new 
proof of Spurzheim's theory. He was not encumbered with 
any learning. He had all the apartments of his memory un- 
filled and waiting to be stored with law. An owl-like grav- 
ity sat on him with a solemnity like the picture of sorrowing 
affection on a tombstone. He was just such a man as passes 
for a wonderful judge of law among the rustics — who usually 
mistake the silent blank of stupidity for the gravity of wis- 
dom. 

We took Jefferson with us, in the recess of court, over to 
a place of departed spirits, — don't start, reader! we mean, 
an evacuated doggery, grocery or juicery, as, in the elegant 
nomenclature of the natives, it was variously called; the for- 
mer occupant having suddenly decamped just before court, 
hy reason of some apprehensions of 'being held responsible 
for practising his profession without license. 

Having taken our seats, the examiners on the counter, 
and the examinee on an empty whiskey barrel, the examina- 
tion began. My learned associate having been better 
grounded in the elemental learning of the books, into which 
his research was, as old H. used to say, " especially sarching," 



326 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

• 

and being, besides, the State's attorney, was entitled to pre- 
cedence in the examination; a claim I was very willing to 
allow. After some general questions, G. asked: 

" Mr. Knowly, wh-at is a chose in action f" 

Knowly. — A chosen action? eh? — yes — exactly — just so 
— a chosen action? Why, a chosen action is — whare a man's 
got a right to fetch two or three actions, and he chuses one 
of 'em which he will fetch — the one that's chuse is the — chosen 
action: that's easy, squire. 

G. — Well, what is a chose in possession? 

K. — A chosen possession? A chosen possession — (G. — 
Don't repeat the question — answer it, if you please. K. — 
Well— I won't—) 

K. — ^A chosen possession? — Yes — exactly — jess so — 
ahem — (here K. looked about for a stick, picked one up and 
began whittling with a knife — then muttering absently) — "A 
chosen possession? Why, squire, if a man has two posses- 
sions to be chose, which he is to chuse as a guardeew which 
the estate have not been divided, and they come to a divide 
of it in lots which the commissioners has set aside and prized, 
and he chooses one of them possessions, which one he chooses, 
that is the chosen possession. That aint hard nuther. 

Q. — Mr. K. how many fees are there? 

K. — How many fees? — why squire, several: doctor's fees 
lawyer's fees, sheriff's fees, jailer's fees, clerk's fees, both 
courts, and most every body else's. 

G. — What is the difference between a fee simple and 
contingent fee? 



EXAMINING A CANDIDATE FOR LICENSE. 327 

K. — The difference between a fee — (here G. told him 
not to repeat the question, K. promised he wouldn't, and re- 
sumed). 

The difference between — yes — exactly jess so. Why, 
squire — a simple fee is where a client gives his lawyer so 
much any how, let it go how it will; and a contingent fee is 
where he takes it on the sheeres, and no cure no pay. 

G. — What are the marital rights of a husband at common 
law? 

K. — The martal rites? — (smiling) — concerning of what, 
squire? 

G. — Her property? 

K. — Oh — that — why — y«s — dess so — why, squire, he g-iets 
her truck, — i. e., if he can without committing a trespass — 
what's hers is his, and what's his is his own. Squire, I know'd 
that before ever I opened a law-book. 

G. — Is the wife entitled to dower in the husband's lands 
if she survives him? 

K. — — yes, squire — in course — I've seen that tried in 
Alabama; that is, squire, you understand if the estate is sol- 
vent to pay the debts. 

G.— Suppose the husband's estate is insolvent — what 
then? 

K. — Why, then, in course not. 

G.— Why not? 

K. — Why not? — why, squire, it stands to reason: for 
then, you see, the husband might gather a whole heap of land, 
and then jest fraudently die to give his wife dower rights to 



338 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

his land, I jest know plenty of men about here mean enough 
to do it, and jump at the chance. 

G. — Has a man a natural right to dispose of his proper- 
ty by will? 

K. — Why, now* squire, concerning of that — my mind aint 
so Clare as on tother pints — it strikes me sort a vague — 
something about a cow laying or that should have laid down 
in a place which she had a right, and another cow-beast, nor 
airy another havin' no rights to disturb her: — aint that it, 
squire. 

G. — Suppose, Mr. K., a tenant for life, should hold over 
after the termination of his estate, what kind of action would 
you bring against him? 

K. — Tenant for life — hold — termination of the state? — 
ugh — um — jess so — Squire, aint that mortmain — the statue 
of mortmain — in Richard the 8th's time? — Blackstone says 
something about that. 

G. — Mr. K., if a man wants to keep his property in his 
family, how far can he make it descend to his children and 
grand-children, &c. 

E. — Why as to that — something, squire, about all the can- 
dles burning — but, squire, I never could understand what 
burning candles had to do with it. 

G. — What is an estate tail female, contingent on the 
happening of a past event, limited by contingent devise to 
the children of grantees after possibility of issue extinct 
considered with reference to the statute De Bonis? 

K. — Squire, the Devil himself couldn't answer that, and 



EXAMINING A CANDIDATE FOR LICENSE. 329 

I guess he's as smart as airy other lawyer — but I reckon it 
is— 

G. — Well, Mr. K., what is the distinction between Law 
and Equity? 

K. — Why, squire, Law is as it happens — 'cordin' to 
proof and the way the juror goes; Eekity is jestis — and a 
man may git a devilish sight of law, and git devilish little 
jestis. 

G. — Does Equity ever interfere with Law? 

K. — Not that ever / seed, squire. 

G. — Whose son is a bastard considered in law? 

K. — Why, squire, tliafs further than I've got — Vve 
ginerally seed that it v,as laid to the young man in the set- 
tlement best able to pay over its main^ainance; and, I sup- 
pose, it would be his son-in-law. 

G.— What is a libel? 

E. — Why, squire, if a man gits another in a room, and 
locks the door on him, and makes him sign a paper certify- 
ing he's told a lie on him, the paper is a lie-dill. 

G. — What is the difference between Trespass and Case? 

K. — Why, squire, Trespass ar when a man trespasses 
on another. Now, squire, your putting so many hard ques- 
tions to me, that is a trespass. 

G. — Yes; and if the fellow can't answer a single one, / 
should say he was a Case. 

Here the examination closed. Jefferson walked slowly 
out of the grocery, and, after getting about thirty yards off 
on the green, beckoned me to him. 



330 SKETCHES OF THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA. 

As I came towards him, he drew himself up with some- 
dignity, took aim at a chip, about fifteen feet off, and squirted 
a stream of tobacco juice at it with remarkable precision. 

Said he, slowly and with marked gravity, '• B , you 

needn't make any report of this thing to the Judge. I be- 
lieve I won't go in. I don't know as it's any harder than I 

took it at the fust — but, then, B , ther's, so, d — d, much 

more, of, it." 



THE END 



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